


Not All That Glitters

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe-Daemons, Alternate Universe-Royalty, Cuddling, Daemon Touching, Drunkenness, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Endings, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-consensual daemon touching, Period Piece, Secret Identity, bed sharing, prince bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: One year.That's all the time Prince James "Bucky" Barnes has left before he's crowned King of Brooklyn and all the responsibilities of ruling a kingdom fall upon his shoulders. The expression heavy is the crown can't ring any truer. Unfortunately, Bucky knows very little of the kingdom he's meant to rule since his Regent Uncle has been doing it in his stead for the past fifteen years after the tragic death of his parents.After an unexpected announcement is made by the Regent, Bucky realizes the only way he'll ever experience anything is to run away with his dæmon, Winter. But one night on his own is enough to have Bucky ready to call it quits. Roughing it is definitely not for him. That is until he meets Steve Rogers and his dæmon, Captain—Brooklyn's most notorious pair of common riffraff thieves.Bucky's view of himself, the world, and everything he's ever learned will be tested while he's with Steve and his ragtag team of misfits. And some hearts will be changed forever along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keire_ke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keire_ke/gifts).



> So this is my piece for this year's Cap RBB. Thank you to the mods for once again putting on such a lovely event and to my amazing artist for creating such an amazing work of art to serve as inspiration--your patience and understanding help so much! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Going over the tree is better,” said the voice behind him.

Bucky sighed and started across the courtyard just as raindrops littered the stones with their lazy summer spots. Wind caught the cape of his cloak. Billowed. Silver, soft and velvet, draping around his body. 

“I don’t have time to go over the tree,” he replied. “Over the fence is better.”

“We can’t _get_ over the fence. Well, _I_ can, but _you_ can’t.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky pulled his cloak hood over his head and made for the Northern Gates. 

Nightfall. 

A grayish tinge fell just behind the horizon where the sun last kissed the land. Shadows would be expected now. Trickster things that came out and teased the corners of the guards’ eyes, especially during a shift change. Perfect for young princes’ daring escapes over high gates. All Bucky needed to do was get there, get over the gate and onto the other side—all without breaking his neck. 

Easy. 

“Bucky, this is stupid, we're going to get caught or you're going to break your neck.”

“So go back if you want to.”

Not that he actually wanted such a thing. It, in fact, made him sick to the stomach to even think about. So the response he got made him grin.

“Maybe I will. But then who'll be there to tell you they told you so when this doesn't work?”

Determined to prove that wrong, Bucky ducked behind the old, moldy statue of one of his great-grandfathers. Or grandmothers. He couldn't be sure; the statue was old, crumbly, covered in moss, and of one of his great someone's.

Whoever it was, they helped keep him hidden from the Head of the Guards, Brock Rumlow. Bucky curled into a tight ball and didn’t move. He even held his breath. The mongoose that scurried around Rumlow’s feet, he was sure, had stopped, standing up straight and nose twitching.

“Stay down.” Bucky didn’t answer. He just did as he was told. Waited. His pulse pounded in his ears. “Okay. Go. _Now_.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He simply swirled to his feet and sprinted into the cover of the nearest bushes. 

“If we’re going along with this cockamamy plan of yours, we better do it now. We’re running out of time.” 

That was true. The guards were already getting into place and the window was closing. If Bucky didn’t make it over the fence soon, then someone would come passing by and see him and bring him back into the palace which meant he’d have to deal with his uncle and Bucky made it a point never to have to deal with his uncle. 

“Okay,” Bucky whispered. “Let’s go.”

From next to him, a sigh. Regardless, Bucky braced himself and took a grip around the iron wroughts. The stone wall, higher than he anticipated, became a lot more intimidating when he needed to get his foot up there. 

“Changed your mind?”

Not dignifying that with an answer, Bucky heaved his way up. The ledge was much narrower than he thought and while he wasn’t exactly up all that high, not being a big fan of heights made this even more difficult. Still, if he was ever going to get over these gates on his own just _once_ it had to be like this. 

Everything in the kingdom was _his_ for the taking and this was, too. Tonight, he’d prove it. Bucky was getting his hands on this one last thing.

Almost, anyway. 

“Shit!”

Just like he’d been warned, he didn’t make it. Bucky’s right leg did, but just before he could swing his left leg over, his trousers caught on the gate’s spike. The tear rang loud in his ear, keeping him from going any farther. Worse than that, it pulled him back and, despite struggling to get loose, Bucky found himself about to slam right into iron and stone. 

“Bucky!”

Instead, Bucky landed upside down and against a warm, fuzzy body. Heard heavy breathing. A deep, hard heartbeat. He smiled and nuzzled against the gray and white fur of his dæmon. A wolf. 

“Thanks, Winter.”

“What did I tell you?” she asked as she carefully slipped out from under him. Bucky clunked against the wall now, but other than uncomfortably hanging by his trousers, it didn’t hurt. “The tree. You should have gone over the tree. You can _climb_ the tree. Not the gates.” 

He didn’t answer that. Bucky just focused on trying to get himself loose. Which, of course, meant ripping his pants the rest of the way. When that didn’t work, he heaved an exasperated sigh and hung completely upside down, his fingers swaying in the summer-dampened grass. 

“Well?” He made a face at Winter, who’d done nothing but plant her behind down on the ground and watched as though amused by Bucky’s fruitless efforts. It wouldn’t be all that surprising. “Are you gonna just watch me? Or could make yourself useful?”

Winter stood again and, though it wasn’t quite the exact motion, probably rolled her eyes in a wolf way. She definitely shook her head as she hopped up onto her hind legs, using her front paws on the stone wall to prop herself up.

“I really shouldn’t, you know,” she said as she took a careful grip of expensive fabric between her teeth. “You won’t learn anything if I do.” 

Regardless of her words, Winter gave a quick tug and all the stitching at the side of Bucky’s pants ripped apart. Bucky fell the rest of the way, landing with a little thud on the soft grass, and rolled onto his side. He chuckled quietly as he rose just to his knees. Just because his attempts at sneaking off castle grounds so he could roam the streets of Brooklyn for just a little while had failed didn’t mean he was out of the woods yet. Being caught out by the wall would be an excellent way to get in trouble. 

Prince or not, Bucky still lived under his regent uncle’s strict rules and supervision for another year. He had free reign within the castle grounds—and over the years, Bucky truly learned how to make use of such privileges—but they also came with certain restrictions.

They made sense, of course. Bucky saw the reason for all the rules—but only one counted most of all. After all, someone _had_ come in and set fire to the North Wing fifteen years ago, killing both his parents and sister. Bucky’d survived by a hairsbreadth, escaping the flames only because Winter dragged him out. She never changed forms again. Strange, that. Most dæmons settled into their permanent forms later in life. Not Winter. Five years. Though it wasn’t exactly permanent then, Winter never made the choice to change after that until It became permanent that way. 

A week later, the Queen's brother-in-law came to pay his respects and the council named him regent. He’d been protecting and mentoring and guiding Bucky since then. 

There was only one problem.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Winter hung her head. “Bucky, I have as much desire to get out for a while as you do, but you’re going to get _hurt_.” 

“We’ll do it your way,” Bucky suggested. “Up and over the tree.”

They sprinted back across the courtyard. Going back in was always easier than sneaking out. No one—no one Bucky was aware of, anyway—knew about the passageway. He’d found it by accident. Just a curious thirteen-year-old still exploring the halls of a palace.

Bucky eased the secret door open. His lantern was still hanging on the hook where he left it. Cobwebs draped over everything, like the leftover gray hairs of some giant monster. Jutting out of the walls were holders for torches, some torches even remained, though the oil had long since dried up. 

“You’re really going to try again tomorrow?” 

Winter’s question didn’t come without sympathy. She understood Bucky’s desire to get out, even if they only developed recently. The gates were just as much locked to her as they were to him. Really, Bucky’d never given much thought to the villages before now. They weren’t any of his concern. 

“Yes.” He scratched the spot between her ears. “I only have a year left. This is my last chance.” 

It hit him, at the start of the summer, that he knew _nothing_ about them. They _belonged_ to him, after all. Maybe this was something of a tantrum, but Bucky wanted to _see_ them. Be in them. As the prince, he should be allowed that—the time to see the simple life of quaint village folk. 

“I know.” She nudged him in the hip just as they started up the winding stone staircase. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there with you.” 

Bucky laughed. “Of course, you will. It’s not like we can separate.” 

Not without pain and tears and the possibility of severe trauma. Bucky knew it all too well. So did Winter. He’d never meant to cause her pain. Winter was his dæmon. A most precious part of his life. The most important. She was part of him. An extension. The moon to his ocean. 

That one and only separation had only been temporary and completely voluntary and done out of the sheer brilliance of Bucky’s mind. 

“Just stay here,” Bucky’d said. He was already stepping out of the room. “We’ll make it fast.” 

“ _Fast_ ,” Winter growled, “isn’t good enough. I _don’t_ want to do this.” 

Bucky did. Bucky was young, in both years and experience, and reckless and still foolish enough to think he could conquer anything. A prince. Born with privilege and divine right. Of course, it’d be different for them. 

“I just want to see,” he had said. He said, “I need to know.” Bucky asked, “Don’t you want to know?” 

“I’m not in any particular rush to find out, no.” 

“It’ll be fine!”

“Bucky, don’t you dare—!”

He did, though. Hand gripped on the knob, Bucky had pulled the door closed and ran. If he didn’t, Winter would’ve just followed. Not that it mattered all that much. Bucky had only just rounded the corridor when the pain hit. 

It started at his stomach. Fire. Flames igniting and spiraling through his entire body and bringing Bucky to his knees in abject horror. Bucky grabbed at his head. At the throbbing. Found fingers turned red. From the blood dripping out of his ear. His nose. The corner of his mouth. 

There had been a scream. Loud and ear-piercing and it took a painstakingly long time to realize it was coming from him. Around the corner, a wolf’s howl. High-pitched and agonizing. 

Bucky, still on hands and knees, turned. Was ill. Tried to crawl only to find himself with shaking elbows and tear-streaked cheeks unable to do anything but curl into a ball and sob. He’d gone too far so fast. He didn’t know what hurt more. His own pain or Winter’s. But it was everywhere. Deep into his bones. His soul. 

“Winter…” he had whimpered. Reached out towards where he’d locked her up so that she couldn’t follow. Naivety made him believe they’d be different. Natural order proved him wrong.

He needed to get back to Winter. It was the only way to end this torment. The torment he’d caused. And only he could reunite them.

Heaving in a deep breath, Bucky had thrown a hand out in front of him and _dragged_ himself forward. Tears burned his eyes. His body trembled. Sweat soaked through silk and satin. He kept going. 

“Winter,” he grunted when he was just a few feet from his door. He could still hear her whines. See her on the floor while trying desperately to dig under the door. “I’m… I’m coming…” 

Energy, at least a little, had already been returning. Bucky’d been able to get back to his knees to get the door open. The second he did, he collapsed back into the room, the pain subsiding as he hit the floor. 

Fire danced in the fireplace, warm and happy and throwing warmth into the room. Bucky let it roll over him as he rolled onto his back, panting and shaking. He reached out for Winter. Needed to feel her. Hear her. He didn’t get to. Instead, he found himself face to snout with a _very_ angry wolf.

“ _Never_ do that again!” Winter had snarled. “I will never _speak_ to you again if you do!”

Bucky abruptly burst into tears. “I’m sorry. Winter, I’m…”

He’d reached up. Just to touch her. Nothing he hadn’t done so many times in his life. From the moment he was born, she’d never not let him touch her. But not that moment. That moment, fangs bared and ears pinned against her head, she had pulled away with a growl. 

“Winter,” Bucky whimpered. “Winter, please…” 

“No.” She nudged the door closed with her head and curled up in front of it. “You stay _put_.” 

He had, too. Bucky didn’t leave his bedchambers once that night. The only time he moved was when he started shivering and Winter told him to move closer to the fire. Even when a maid came in to turn down his bed—her dæmon, a hen, clucking at her feet—Bucky had remained in his spot, hugging his knees and quietly weeping. 

The maid had gasped in shock at the sight of Bucky when he glanced up at her. She’d even almost gone to fetch the palace physician, shaken by Bucky’s pale and blood-stained face. But Bucky had shaken his head. Winter had growled. And the woman and her dæmon left without another word. 

It wasn’t until dawn, when strings of yellow sunlight melted away icy patterns on big, cathedral windows, that Winter came to Bucky. Her big, gray eyes still hurt but seeking comfort. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky had whispered. Wiped an arm across overflowing eyes. “Winter…” 

“Don’t leave me again,” Winter had murmured back. “Never.”

Bucky had shaken his head. Flung arms around thick fur and cried, “Never.” 

He’d fallen asleep right on top of her and slept through the rest of the next day. 

Bucky never did leave her again after that. He swore he never would and he’d never break that promise. 

Just like she understood his new and sudden need to get over the castle walls. One time. That was really all Bucky wanted. Once, to see the world not as a prince, but someone else. Someone who could also not _be_ a prince and, instead, be liked and loved for _who_ he was not _what_ he was. 

Bucky was quickly running out of time though. In just a year, he’d be crowned king. Once his coronation was over, so would any chances at a few moments of freedom. 

It had never occurred to him that he hadn't truly been beyond the palace until the summer started. He’d left, sure, but to only visit the homes of nobility and other kingdoms. When it dawned on Bucky that he’d never really _done_ anything, his lavishing life—the polished marble of his beautiful home—suddenly felt like a prison. A prison dripping in decadence and luxury, where people would bring him whatever he’d ask for, but a prison nonetheless. 

Yes, they’d bring him chocolates and cakes and sweets. Yes, they’d bring him wine and champagne. Yes, they’d dress him and read to him and entertain him and show out the string of nameless people that kept him satisfied for a day or two until he called for another to keep his bed for one night only. 

None of that changed the fact that Bucky could do nothing for himself. None of that changed the fact the Bucky had never been allowed to walk through the castle gates to see his kingdom on his own. None of that changed the fact that the only people who called themselves his friends did so for the sole purpose that he was their prince and cared not for him but just to be in his good graces.

Some so bold enough to even try to fake their way into his heart. Lords and Ladies who bat their eyes and gave him fake smiles and pretended—badly—to laugh at jokes he made that weren't funny. One tricked him fairly well. Even Winter believed her love had been real. But the entire courtship had been a farce, and Bucky’d been left with a broken heart and the sudden realization that no one liked _him_ , but rather his soon-to-have crown.

“Just once, Winter,” Bucky said as they rounded the hall towards his bedchambers, “I'd like to know what it's like to have a real friend.”

“I'd be insulted if I didn't know what you meant.”

Bucky laughed.

“Come on,” he said. “I'll have the maids draw me a nice hot bath.”

Her ears perked up. “With bubbles?”

She liked it when there were bubbles. They not only relaxed Bucky more but she liked when he blew them at her.

“With bubbles,” he agreed and snapped his fingers at a curtsying maid. “You there, Chambermaid. Draw my bath,” he instructed. “With warm water and bath oils. And don't forget the bubbles.”

The maid, along with her little clucking duck, turned and hurried off to do just that. Bucky grinned. He almost liked when people didn't know what to do around him. When they became so flustered and intimidated they were struck speechless. His uncle told him it was a sign of respect. That people beneath his authority and birthright _should_ be dizzied by his very presence. 

“And then what do you say to some suckling pig? Are you hungry?”

“Bucky, it's the middle of the night,” she answered. “You're already having a maid draw you a bath. You've had your dinner, are you really going to wake the cooks to make them cook _again_?”

Bucky shrugged. “I'm the Prince, aren't I? Uncle says I should be served and waited on.”

He flicked his hand through the air in a manner of nonchalance. It should not matter to him if the cooks were woken. Such matters were beneath him. He wanted food. That's what counted most.

“He also says you shouldn't leave the castle grounds.”

Making a face at her, Bucky had every intention of arguing back again. He even would have. The start of one almost rolled off his tongue but any chance of it coming out was smothered back down when someone emerged from his room. Both Bucky and Winter tripped over their feet. Winter whined quietly though she remained a steady force at Bucky’s side.

“U-Uncle,” Bucky said, his voice just barely floating past his lips. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Well.” He lifted his hand and waited for his dæmon, a yellow-throated marten, to hand him something. A piece of cloth. “I was worried when the guards found _this_ so I came to check on you on my own.” 

Heart falling, Bucky pulled his leg back. He didn’t know why. If what his uncle held in his hand wasn’t damning enough the fact that it was clearly ripped from his pants definitely was. 

“I can explain,” Bucky whispered. “We were only—”

“And here I was,” his uncle interrupted, “terrified that someone was coming to hurt you and what do I find?” 

Heavy footsteps behind them alerted Bucky that they were no longer alone in the corridor. Winter turned first, a growl in the back of her throat. The black-tailed mongoose that skittered forward, undeterred by Winter’s fangs, teeth, or size, hissed. 

“I could eat her,” Winter mumbled just so he could hear. “It’d be easy.” 

“Only that would be murder.” 

Satisfying as that might’ve been, Bucky wasn’t really sure if they could truly go through with it. Kill Crossbones, kill her human. As the Head Guard, Brock Rumlow might’ve been a blight on Bucky’s life—never let him catch a break, always bringing him to his uncle over the slightest infraction, watching his every move—but murder still seemed a bit much. Most of the times. 

“We searched the grounds, Sir,” Brock said. “No other signs of intruders.” 

“I’m not surprised. You won’t find any, Sir Brock.” He gestured to Bucky. “Here’s our culprit, caught red-handed.” 

“Uncle Alex, please,” Bucky tried again. “I can—”

But his uncle didn’t want to listen. That wasn’t unusual. He rarely listened to Bucky when Bucky’d done something wrong. 

“Take him to the throne room,” he said to Brock instead. “I’d like to have a few words with my nephew in private.” 

He swept past them then, without even another look in Bucky’s direction. A breath caught in Bucky’s throat, nerves skittering down his spine like broken pieces ivory. This wasn’t good.

“Let’s go, _Your_ _Highness_ ,” Brock huffed and grabbed him by the elbow. “The Regent wants to talk to you.” 

“I _heard_ him, thank you very much,” Bucky answered through clenched teeth and a failed attempt at pulling his arm back. “I’ll go when I’m good and ready.” 

“You’ll go _now_.”

Brock yanked at Bucky’s arm again, this time pulling him away from his bedroom. Planting his heels, Bucky dragged his feet to keep them from going. Maybe it was childish; his uncle had requested an audience with him and Bucky couldn’t really say no. But he’d rather have the dignity of being allowed to walk their own his own rather than being dragged by Brock Rumlow. 

“May I _remind_ you,” Bucky grunted while Winter growled at Crossbones as she sneered at them both, “ _I’m_ going to be your _king_ one day.”

“I ain’t overly worried about it,” Brock shot back. “And that day ain’t today anyway. My loyalty is to the Regent. So.”

The pain came on swift and strong. Unexpected. One second Bucky was glaring at Brock then his knees buckled, and he found himself crumpling and gasping and reaching for his ankle. He whipped his gaze to the left when he realized Winter, too, was yelping. 

Crossbones had latched onto the back of Winter’s left hind leg, claws and fangs digging deep into skin and muscle. Head reared back in an anguished howl, Winter tried to shake the mongoose off. She kicked her leg and even attempted to yank the dæmon away with her teeth, but just couldn’t reach no matter how hard she tried. 

“No, stop!” Bucky didn’t know whether he should curl around Winter or himself. “Please, you’re hurting us!” 

It was a dirty, underhanded trick, really, attacking from behind like that. Face-to-face would have made this an entirely different situation. Maybe Crossbones would’ve gotten a few good lashes in, but Winter could chase her off in a fair fight. Instead, the damn thing sank her teeth and claws into Winter’s back legs so that it was nearly impossible to shake her off. 

“Please, let go…” Bucky’s hand clung onto something. His whole body trembled. “Please, I’m… I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” 

The pain stopped as suddenly as it started. Bucky gasped for breath and reached for Winter, gripping his hand in her fur and burying his face in her warm coat. 

Brock’s snigger sent an awful chill down Bucky’s spine. Like bugs crawling all over his skin. When he glanced up, he realized not only was he on his knees in front of Brock, he had grasped onto his tunic. 

“Some king,” he grunted. “Groveling on his knees.”

Slipping her head under his arm, Winter helped Bucky back to his feet. Before bothering with Brock at all, Bucky checked on Winter’s wellbeing. She mattered more. Much more than any overpowered knight on his own pedestal. 

Once he knew that Winter was all right—her leg didn’t even have a scratch on it—Bucky turned his attention back to Brock. He would be lying if he claimed something about Brock didn’t frighten him. It always had. From the very first day his uncle brought him into his House and made him the Head Guard. Still, Bucky stood up straight, looked him right in the eye, and swallowed roughly. 

“My uncle told you to do something,” he said, voice holding just the hint of mocking. “I suggest you do it.” 

Eyes zeroing in on him, Brock tried to grab the back of Bucky’s shirt but, ready for that, Bucky bobbed away and he missed. The growl from Winter probably kept him from trying again and Bucky casually walked ahead of them. If he needed to be escorted down to the throne room, at least he could maintain some of his dignity.

It didn’t take long to reach there, though Bucky kept his distance from Brock and Crossbones the entire time. Once there, Brock was sent away and Bucky found himself facing his very angry uncle. In the throne room.

Bucky hated being in the throne room. Darkness crept along all the edges of the room, hid in the corners, lurked behind high, stone columns, no matter what time of day. Silver banners of red starbursts greeted all those who walked in, high above the marble aisle, all dusty and worn and old. They were once kept fresh and clean, Bucky supposed. But now they just hung there. Each waiting to fall like the leaves before winter. One season to end for another to begin. 

Rain splattered down from the gray skies. Hard now. Big drops of water that sounded like pebbles hitting the stained windows. Lightning flashed. A thunderhead crashed. Even Winter winced. It was hard not to under the cold scrutiny of his regent uncle. 

Bucky knew not to speak yet. A prince didn’t speak until the right moment. When face to face with his uncle, it wasn’t until after his uncle spoke first. So he just waited. Glands swollen and chest tight. Winter sat beside him. Beside him, but a little ahead. 

Her eyes focused on the yellow-throated marten that sat upon the arm of the throne. Pale, yellowish body. Large and robust and muscular with an elongated neck and small pointed head. Her face was covered by a broad band of sooty black, a mask over two dark eyes. That long tail swished around her body, curling around the arm of the throne. Hydra watched Winter carefully—tiny, but sharp fangs bared as though she considered leaping forward. It wouldn’t be the first time. She usually played too rough. 

“Why do you do this to me, James?” 

Bucky shuddered under the weight of his uncle’s words. Like polished stones, every one of them, that he kept carefully balanced upon his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Uncle Alex.” 

“You know.” Alex’s fingers stroked the spine of his dæmon. “They never caught those responsible for the fire that killed your parents. So, by all means, run out there and get yourself killed, too.”

“But, Uncle—”

His mouth snapped shut when his uncle’s eyes blazed. He knew better than that. Objecting to his uncle was never in his best interest. On the arm of the throne, Hydra snickered. 

“For fifteen years I’ve looked after you. Taught you, protected you, and you thank me by trying to run away.” 

Emotions played inside Bucky’s mouth, tangling around his tongue and snagging at his jaw. He hung his head. Shook it. His uncle, Bucky knew, had every reason to be angry with him. Like he’d pointed out, it’d been him who’d come to look after him after his family died. Who raised him. Made sure that the people looking to end the Barnes’ bloodline hadn’t come back to finish the job. 

“Why do you fight me, James?” Uncle Alex asked. “Do I not do enough for you? You know, I could have sent you off to finishing school like other regents do with their charges, but I didn’t, did I?” His voice shrugged along with his shoulder, a disinterested and bored motion. “No, I _kept_ you. I’ve allowed you to live in the lap of luxury, let you have a lifestyle that a prince _should_ be accustomed to. Spoils and pampering. Nothing but the best. Delicacies from around the world. The finest fashion.” 

Bucky’s eyes swept over his current clothing. Though torn and dirtied now, he was dressed in ostentatious extravagance. Layers of silk and lace. Jewels upon his fingers and wrists and hanging around his neck—that one, a round piece of white gold beset with rubies in the shape of a star, was the royal family’s sigil. The royal icon. Bucky never took it off. Only royalty could wear that icon. 

Without the assistance of his servants, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could even properly dress himself in all proper garments. He turned his wrist over to look where the laces pulled his sleeve closed and suspected he could. He’d been through it enough, but it would take time to learn a decent speed. 

“You’ve had the best tutors and instructors brought in from all over the kingdom.” 

Each one of them stricter than the last. Bucky understood why, truly, he did. As the future King of Brooklyn, he needed to learn and master everything. Or, at least, as much as he could. Mathematics, science, literature, finances, history, art. Long, grueling days of lessons that sometimes bled well into the bitter, unwelcoming night. Perfection had been demanded. Perfection always seemed to be just out of reach, and instead, disappointment took its place. 

“When you wanted to learn how to ride a horse, you got your very own pony. When you wanted to learn how to fight, I had a blacksmith come in and make a custom sword for your lessons.”

Bucky’d been so excited for both. Winter, not so much. She’d fretted over whether or not Bucky would be safe on a horse. Made him swear he’d take it easy and go slow. The first time Bucky was thrown, making friends with the ground in a most painful way, he was certain Winter would’ve ripped his horse’s throat out if he hadn’t stopped her. 

As for his sword lessons, well, Bucky trained hard with his tutors. Covered in sweat. Lungs burning. Muscles aching. Falling into sawdust one minute and bed the next, covered in bumps and cuts and beautiful bruises that turned the most fantastic colors. And whenever his uncle permitted, Bucky would jump in the ring during aristocratic tournaments and found himself even able to beat some of the best in Court. Until he was seventeen, of course, and learned he hadn’t truly beaten anyone, but as the prince had been merely allowed the courtesy of a win. 

“I give you an allowance,” his uncle said. “Most of which you’ve been spending on… on _wine_ and _confections_ and _women_.” 

That last one, even Winter flicked her gaze up at him. She hadn’t been too pleased with Bucky’s more recent ventures into darker pleasures. Drowning himself in wine—which affected not only Bucky’s body and mind but Winter’s as well. Any night Bucky drank himself to oblivion, Winter didn’t remember either. Stuffing his face full of sweets or rather, having the women whose company he paid for stuff it for him. 

Bucky swallowed back the urge to tell his uncle he’d forgotten about the men he found pleasure in as well. 

“How do you think you’ll ever manage caring for an entire kingdom when you can’t even take care of yourself? What would your parents think?” 

Pain pressed against Bucky’s chest; a monster that tried to burst forth and leave Bucky broken and empty. Winter whimpered for him.

Uncle Alex sighed and leaned forward. He shook his head, pinched between his eyes like he did whenever Bucky caused him problems. When he looked up again, he waved his hand, beckoned Bucky closer. 

“What on _earth_ were you thinking, James?” he asked, placing a hand over Bucky’s head. Soft and gentle. The same way he’d done when he’d comforted him after his parents died. “Where did you think you would go?”

An image formed in Bucky’s mind. He didn’t know where it came from. A dream. A memory. A story. The idea of some far off adventure. Saving the day. Hell, just mingling with villagers. 

“I thought, maybe…” Bucky shuffled his feet. “The village?”

Eyes going wide, his uncle just stared at him for a few seconds before straightening up with a shake of his head. Hydra climbed down and onto Uncle Alex’s lap, curling up and sneering in Bucky’s direction like she meant to laugh but held it back. From next to him, Winter tensed. Readying to have to protect either herself or Bucky, he suspected. 

“The Village?” Uncle Alex barked a laugh. “By gods, Nephew, what in the world would make you want to go there?”

“Well, I just thought—”

“If you were thinking,” his uncle interrupted, “you wouldn’t have thought that. You know a king would never sully himself by stepping onto common ground, so why do you think a prince should?”

“I… I know that, Uncle, it’s just...” Bucky cleared his throat and tried to think of some way to remedy this. “I’ve never been outside the castle walls. I don’t even have any real friends.” 

Rising out of the throne, Hydra climbing up to rest upon his shoulder, Uncle Alex crossed the room and stood in front of one of the larger windows. He watched the rain trail down the glass before closing the wooden shutters, making it darker in there still. 

“I guess I always knew this day was coming,” he said. “Bucky.” It was so rare that he used the nickname and it always caught Bucky off guard. “You know why we stay here in the palace.”

“I know, but—”

“Look at you.” Uncle Alex came back over, wearing a soft smile, and brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “So gullible. Naive. You’re just so _fragile_.” 

Once again, Bucky looked over himself, not sure if that was meant as an insult or not. Fragile? That wasn’t true. He could ride and fight and he was well educated. A few commoners wouldn’t be a problem for him. 

“You have no idea what’s out there, James,” he said. “Roughians. Thugs. Thieves. Even just the common folk, Nephew, they don’t _know_ our way of life. They aren’t cultured. They’ve no manners or common decency like the people you know in Court. The villagers will eat you alive.” 

Armed with nothing to fight back with, Bucky’s mouth felt much too dry. He knew nothing of the village—any of the villages, really—other than what his uncle had told him. The idea of being eaten alive—figuratively, Bucky assumed—made him feel so small and insignificant. A failure, really. 

Part of Bucky wanted to curl up next to Winter and disappear for a while. She’d make him feel better. Quiet the voice in his head that agreed with his uncle. 

Another part of him desired to be held by his uncle, just like when he was younger. He’d protect him from all that was out there like he’d been doing ever since his parents had died. 

“But, Uncle,” Bucky tried to argue, voice lacking any fight and energy, “how can I rule the people if I don’t know the people?”

“Oh, Nephew, don’t you worry.” His uncle placed a hand at Bucky’s cheek. “That’s what you have _me_ for. You don’t think I’d just abandon you the second you turned twenty-one, do you? I’m here to protect you.” His other hand came up to cup his other cheek. “No uncultured villagers are going to take you out of this world like they did your parents.”

That was one of the problems, though. Everyone always doing everything for him. Even when he wanted something to be bought, someone else went out to do it for him. Uncle Alex said a prince never went into market. Bucky didn’t even get to pick out who he got to spend a night with. 

Bucky nibbled on his lip. At the same time, Winter nudged the back of her hand with her snout. He didn’t look down at her. Instead, he just shrugged at his uncle while Hydra lifted up straight, watching him as though interested in what he’d do next. As if everyone could sense the unease that drizzled around him like the rain that fell from the skies. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Uncle,” Bucky answered. “I only thought I could—”

“Oh, sh, sh.” Two fingers covered Bucky’s lips to keep him from talking any further. “It’s okay. I know what’s best for you.”

“I know.” Bucky nodded. “I love you, Uncle.” 

Patting his head, Uncle Alex slipped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and led him from the room. Bucky shivered. A soft whine escaped passed Winter’s lips. 

“I love you more, Nephew. Now,” he said as they walked towards Bucky’s chambers. “Let’s talk about the consequences of your actions tonight.” 


	2. Chapter 2

One month.

One month of a discontinued allowance and locked doors and watching what could be seen of the world from a high up window. It wasn’t fair.

Bucky grumbled and snatched up the same book he’d read at least three times during his forced house arrest. He threw himself onto the bed. Did nothing more with the book other than dropping it spine up over his face with an exaggerated sigh. Winter, who’d been resting lazily over the end of the bed, rolled over when he poked her with his toes.

“What?” she asked.

He groaned and slipped further under the hidden cover of words and far off pirate adventures.

“I’m bored.”

“I’m perfectly aware.”

“Entertain me.”

All that got him was a pair of blinking eyes, silver moons disappearing and reappearing once before she shook her head out and laid it down again. A smile pulled up on Bucky’s lips only it did not last. He was bored of reading. Bored of having trays of sweets and wine brought up him. Bored of seducing chambermaids.

He could go about the palace in a sour mood and frighten the staff. They did tend to scurry around whenever he was in a foul state of mind. They'd fetch him this or do that. Whatever he asked for to please their Prince. Especially when they found him to be in a most vicious mood. Bucky, hands tucked behind his head, grinned at the thought.

But, no. That idea did not intrigue him much. As much as he knew he brought this upon them, Winter suffering because of him was almost too much to bear. He hated that she was also locked up with him.

At least if she was allowed out then she’d be able to stretch her legs and back when she ran. She’d be able to lay out in the sun and roll through the grass. She’d be able to swim in the pool at the bathhouse. Through her, Bucky’d be able to feel the exhilaration that gushed through her. It wouldn’t be the same as experiencing it for himself, but he’d still laugh and be happy right along with her.

Anything would be better than this isolation.

Of course, none of that matter because of the very reason Winter was trapped there with him. Winter being allowed to leave meant Bucky being allowed to leave as well. Very few people had the ability to separate far from their dæmons. Those who could went through some grand endeavor to gain such an ability.

There were other stories, too. Terrible, dreadful tales of people who’d had the connection to their dæmons literally severed. Bucky shuddered just considering it. Even sat up and pet a hand over Winter’s back. She didn’t stir.

“Stop that,” she did whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Another grin. Bucky breathed out softly and smothered his face in her soft fur. This time, when Winter turned, it was to lick his face. Sweet affectionate wolf kisses. Until she suddenly shot up, making Bucky fall flat onto his mattress, and pinned him down so she could make a mess of slobbering all over his face.

“Winter!” he exclaimed through a burst of laughter. “What _are_ you doing?!”

“You wanted me to entertain you.” She gave him one last lick right across the nose. “Are you entertained?”

“Yes, yes!” Bucky tried giving her a shove off of him, but her weight was much too great for him. “Let me up! Please, let me up!”

Chuckling, Winter backed away so that he could sit up again. Bucky first attempted to put on an air of arrogance. Of annoyed princely behavior, but it fell away like chunks of snow melting in the sun and he threw his arms around his dæmon. Winter, he could feel, placed her paw at the small of his back as if to hug him back.

“You know,” she murmured some few minutes later. “I don’t think you’re wrong.”

“About wanting you to entertain me?”

Winter snorted and plopped down with her head in Bucky’s lap. Her eyes glanced up at him.

“No, you dope. About wanting to get to know the kingdom. It makes sense.”

“Oh.” Bucky leaned back against his pillows. Silk and satin. Bright and colorful. Bored with the company. “Maybe Uncle’s right. My place is here. Not among filthy commoners.”

“How do you know they’re filthy?”

“I don’t…” Bucky’s eyebrows stitched. “I don’t know. They’re just different, is all.” He considered this for a moment and tried something else. “And, besides, they _did_ kill my parents. Maybe it’d be different if they caught the culprits, but they didn’t. They’re still out there and they want to do away with the royal bloodline.”

A moment passed over them. Bucky couldn’t be sure what happened, but if he felt the same thing Winter did—and no doubt they both did—then something strange floated between them.

“Do you remember it, Bucky?” Winter whispered. 

“It’s just a _dream_ , Winter.”

“What if it’s not?”

No. It had to be. Bucky remembered very little of his family, and what he did was distorted and hazy at best. The idea that the castle gates used to be open for the most common of villagers to wander around the front courtyards for holidays and special occasions was just ludicrous. Even worse was the wild fantasy that once a month he and his parents and little sister would ride into the nearest villages for a visit.

Just as Uncle Alex pointed out, such things were beneath a king. Bucky’s father would never sully the family in such a way. And yet, Bucky also couldn’t shake the idea that the throne room, too, was once so different. Bright and cheerful and welcoming. Full of people. Not just those of Court. Villagers. Commoners. Peasants.

The kingdom joined together to celebrate as one.

“Winter—”

“Bucky, your uncle…”

She trailed off. It wasn’t often she spoke of Uncle Alex. He scared her. Hydra, mostly. Not because the marten could overpower her in strength, but Hydra _did_ have power over her. Or rather, over Bucky. That alone seemed enough to keep her intimidated and subdued.

“He’s… he’s kept us safe, Winter,” Bucky answered. “Kept us when he could have sent us away. We owe him to him to be good and trust what he says.”

Winter lifted her head and bumped Bucky’s chin, nuzzling right underneath it.

“I don’t know who you’re trying to convince,” she said. “Me or you.”

Bucky said nothing in response. He just allowed the rest of the hot, boring day drip over them. Just like the one before that. And the one before that.

Nothing would change for another week. When late afternoon spilled in through the windows like gold coins and rubies, and way out in the distance, Bucky could just make out playful fireflies blinking against the rolling hills he’d ride his horse on if he’d been allowed. It was unannounced. Completely unexpected. And came about when Sir Brock Rumlow was escorted to Bucky’s chambers.

“You have a visitor, Your Highness.”

Bucky glanced up from the corner where he sat in his chair reading. The book in his lap almost fell when he turned to see who she meant. Behind her, a tall, ominous figure lurked in the doorway. His dæmon marched in first, shoving the servant’s hen out of the way. The mongoose just snickered as the woman—Evelyn, Bucky thought her name was—nearly fell over.

Hand on her shoulder, Brock steadied her before entering the room. Said nothing to Crossbones before she left. As Bucky went back to his pair of star-crossed lovers, Winter placed herself between him and them with a small growl deep in her throat.

“What do you want?” Bucky asked.

Brock first sat in another chair, helping himself to some of the wine Bucky kept on the desk. Trying to be stoic and leave Winter to be his eyes, turned out to be a lot harder than it should have been. Every noise Brock made, every little sight Bucky caught out of the corner of his eyes, made him want to spin back around.

A lump formed in his throat the longer Brock went on not talking. Not knowing where Crossbones went didn’t help matters. Sweat pooled at the back of his neck. A bead of it slipped down the side of Bucky’s face. He shifted once in his chair. Readjusted the neck of his tunic before fiddling with the royal icon he wore around his neck. His heart sped up when the chair behind him creaked. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

When Brock’s boots hit the floor hard and loud, the noise startled Bucky so badly, that he nearly leapt from his chair. The book slid to the floor with a thud, the pages spilling open so that Bucky lost his spot. Winter, who hadn’t made a sound or move the whole time, leaned back against him as if to offer comfort. Brock, Bucky realized, had simply kicked his heels out in a stretch and now watched him with a smug grin, arms crossed lightly over his chest. Crossbones had been on the desk next to the bottle of wine.

Bucky sighed and reached down for his book. “What do you want, Brock?”

“To talk,” he answered. Matter-of-factly. As though coming to Bucky’s chambers unannounced was a normal occurrence. “I was thinking about what you said.”

“About what I said?” Bucky’s eyes swept up to him. “What did I say?”

Brock watched him as though he thought him either silly or daft. Either way, he looked amused.

“About you being king.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky just pulled his book to his chest and sighed. No one ever knew how to at least be a little creative.

“You're just trying to get in my good graces,” he mumbled. “It won't work.”

“Actually.” Brock leaned forward. “More’ve the opposite really.”

Once he leaned in closer like that, Bucky faced forward in his own chair again. A chill rolled through the room. Goosebumps rose on Bucky’s arms.

“That's ridiculous. Once I'm king, I'll have the power to get _rid_ of you.”

That only made Brock bark a laugh. Bucky couldn't be sure, but it sounded as though he leaned back more to get comfortable. As if getting a better fit for the finer things. A taste.

“That's the last thing you want, kid.”

“And why is that?”

“Because.” Bucky could hear him take a drink. “I'm loyal to your uncle. My men are loyal to me. If I _take_ my men… where does that leave you?”

Without an army. Without a Household. Without any protection. That lump in Bucky’s throat pushed like the razor sharp edge of a dagger.

“Why would you leave,” Bucky asked, “if you're loyal to my uncle?”

“Why would your uncle stay?”

“For me.”

Of course, he would. Uncle Alex admitted so himself. Sure, Bucky wasn't always the most well behaved or easiest to get along with. Maybe he was a spoiled, rotten Prince, but his uncle wouldn't just abandon him. He promised.

“For how long?” Brock asked. “He's already given up fifteen years of his life for you. Instead of trying to start a new life for himself, he gave everything up to take care of _you_. How selfish can you _be_?”

Heart sinking to his stomach, Bucky would’ve given anything to just cover his ears and make those words disappear. He didn't mean to be selfish. Never wanted his uncle to give up his new fiance after being a widower for five years. Didn't ask for any of this.

Winter came close to him now. Whispered something that sounded like _it's not your fault_ but Bucky couldn't quite catch it.

“You made your point,” he muttered, squeezing the book tight to his chest. “You can show yourself out.”

“No, I don't think I _have_.”

The chair spun around so suddenly, Bucky had no time to realize what was happening until face-to-face with Brock. If he wasn't so stunned and baffled by what he'd done, Bucky might've had it in him to be impressed. The sneaky, underhanded move made a lot of sense.

Brock had waited for the right moment to strike. Right when Winter was distracted. Not a second before.

Even with the wolf snarling and snapping, Brock didn't move an inch. Somehow, he must've known Winter wouldn't really attack. Not him, anyway. She couldn't any more than Bucky. That didn't stop Crossbones from getting between them and hissing at her, effectively cutting Winter away from Brock.

“You don't want to be on my bad side, kid,” Brock murmured, closing the small space between them. So close their breaths began to mix. “I promise you this, play nice and I can be nice too. If you don't?” He pressed his lips right to Bucky’s ears and whispered, “King or not, I'll make your life a waking nightmare.”

He moved then. Only slightly, as a shiver ran through Bucky’s frozen body. Tears stung his eyes though he dared not shed even one of them. Bucky wouldn't give Brock such satisfaction.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, mildly horrified when Brock began undressing him with his eyes.

Bucky knew enough of the world to know that look. He'd seen it enough. In men staring at servants. At ladies in Court. At him.

Never like that though. So… up close and personal. Bucky felt so naked and exposed. A piece of meat on display for the hounds ready to be tossed to the hungriest.

“You're a pretty little thing.” Brock licked his lips. “Ain't ya?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but only a gagging noise came out. His eyes watered for a second before both he and Bucky turned to see Crossbones pinned at the throat by Winter's paw.

“Don't. Touch. Him.” She pressed down harder and Brock grabbed at his own throat. “And get _out_.”

She lifted her leg and Crossbones scurried over to Brock, leaping into his outstretched arms and nuzzling his head against his cheek. It was a strange sight to behold—the big, muscular and unforgiving knight and his dæmon embracing.

Still, it wasn't the same as between Bucky and Winter. There was something rough in their affection. Almost as though their greatest love was also their greatest weakness.

Just before leaving, Brock flicked an angry glare back at them both.

“You don't want us as your enemy,” he growled. “Just remember that I tried to warn you.”

He left without even closing the door behind him. Not that it should have surprised Bucky. It was Winter who closed it for them, slamming it just as Bucky envisioned.

The first tear slipped from Bucky’s eye when Winter started pacing about the room. He hastily wiped it away, not wanting her to see it. Jaw stiffening, Bucky did what he could to get those useless tears under control.

There were so many things running through his mind. Fingers of lightening outstretched and grabbing his brain. The kingdom. His crown. Uncle Alex. Brock. His family. Winter.

Bucky didn’t understand something. A person’s dæmon was a representation of their inner self. Their soul in animal form. A shape-shifting, everlasting companion who eventually settles into one form to represent their human’s true nature. And here was Bucky. A prince who got his kicks out of bossing servants around and bedding random people. With Winter. A wolf. Who paced back and forth, infuriated and unafraid to show it, while he trembled and held back tears.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” She snapped at the air. “That boorish oaf. That _brainless_ lout. Coming in here and… _and_ …”

“Winter,” Bucky whispered, grabbing her attention enough that she almost tripped over her front paws. “Why’re you a wolf?”

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“A wolf.” Bucky wiped the back of his arm across his eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense. You should… be a worm. Or something.”

Winter winced as though insulted. For a second, Bucky thought about taking the question back. But he was just so baffled by her settled form and this wasn’t the first time he’d considered it. He needed to know.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s just… you can do anything and I’m… nothing.” Bucky shook his head, eyes on his lap. “A wolf doesn’t really suit me. S’not right.”

“I can’t even _begin_ to tell you everything that’s wrong with that statement.” Winter sat down with a shake of her head. “But I’m gonna try anyway.” She sighed as though she was getting ready to do something very trying. “Bucky, I settled as a wolf because deep down, it’s who you are. Loyal, caring, social, playful. You’re determined and hardworking. You want so badly to please people, but you’re smart and cautious. And above all, you’re protective, Bucky, of the people you love.” 

Bucky sniffled and wiped away a stray tear. “I just froze, Winter. I couldn’t even tell him to go. How could I ever protect anyone I love when I can’t even protect myself?”

Lavender shadows twirled around the corners of the room, reaching their long fingers across the floor. For a long while, Winter just stared at him. As though Bucky had said something strange.

“You… don’t remember,” she said, “do you?”

“Remember what?”

“The night of the fire.”

A hole opened in Bucky’s stomach, every emotion imaginable falling into it. Winter’d never just brought up that night before. Not without prompting. And this hardly seemed an appropriate time.

Bucky didn’t remember much of the fire and Winter knew that. He remembered waking to screams. People rushing and panicking. Smoke. Running. His legs turning to mush and unable to hold him up any longer. The air turning to black and thick and acrid to breathe. Being dragged out when he fell. There wasn’t much more than that other than the ache in his chest when he kept seeing everyone else—servants and cooks and butlers—but not his parents coming out with his sister safely tucked in their arms. Someone, he didn’t know who draped a blanket over his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. “You pulled me out of my room because I couldn’t get myself out.”

Winter shook her head. “No, Bucky. I didn’t pull you out of your own room. I pulled you out of the nursery.”

“The nursery?”

“Rebecca’s nursery,” Winter repeated. “ _That’s_ where you went. I followed after you, begging you to just get out, but you wouldn’t listen. I had to _drag_ you away from the flames and you wouldn't talk to me for a solid week. You ran for the baby. Five years old, Bucky—"

“Stop. Please.”

“—and your thought was to run for your baby sister. _That is_ why I am a wolf, James Barnes. Because you fear for the safety of your pack above your own.”

Bottom lip trembling, one, solitary tear dropped from Bucky’s chin. He didn't recall any of that. Only the fire. The fear the rushed through him and the hurry to escape it all.

“I didn't save her,” Bucky whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest. “If what you say is true, I couldn't protect my baby sister.”

“No one could have, Bucky,” Winter assured him. “But you were still a baby yourself. And you still tried. You're going to make a wonderful king.”

Bucky rested his head against the top of Winter's. His smile, though teary, was still full and warm. Winter made him feel warm. Right. No matter how lost he got, traipsing through dark and twisted woods, Winter would always be there to guide him home.

***

“You wanted to see me, Uncle?”

The announcement came right after breakfast. Bucky was to be bathed and dressed in his finest to be presented before his uncle this morning. Once he was ready, he went straight to the throne room, dressed in the new clothes the Regent had sent up to him.

“Ah, Nephew!” Uncle Alex waved him closer. “Come in, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

What he didn’t expect was to be greeted not only by his uncle but the entire council as well. The five of them sat at the dais set up in front of the throne. The spread was extravagant, their breakfast still there. Meats and eggs and fruits. Fresh bread that was probably just brought in with powdery sugar to be shaken on top. Muffins with chocolate and berries. So much food, Bucky couldn’t believe it was just for six people.

“My apologies,” Bucky said. “I didn’t realize I would be entertaining guests. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“Not at all, my boy.”

“Your Highness.” One of the councilmen pushed away from the dais. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Out of the five members on the council, he was the only one that Bucky remembered from when his parents were alive. Everyone else had since left. The tall, black man came over and embraced Bucky, his short-eared owl, Shield, floated down to the floor to greet Winter.

“Sir Nicholas,” Bucky replied. “You too.”

Sir Nicholas Fury had been the Captain of the Guard for King George before Bucky was even born. He lost an eye during what should have been a routine negotiation between Brooklyn and a neighboring kingdom. Despite things going array and the sudden betrayal of that alliance, it was Sir Nicholas’s quick wit and intelligence that kept a brewing fight from escalating to a battle. Because of him, his eye and a shaken alliance had been some of the worst things lost that day. It could have been much worse.

“So like your mother,” he said after one last tight squeeze. “It’s Nick, if you don’t mind.” Nick took a step back and held his hand from Bucky’s head to his own chest. “Look at you. You’ve grown.”

“I don’t think much since the last you’ve visited.” Bucky shrugged. “Two years now?”

Nick nodded. “Rough times. The borders have been tough to keep at bay since… well.” He didn’t finish that. “But it matters not, does it? Soon, you’ll be king and the proper bloodline shall reign once more.”

“Yes, about that,” Uncle Alex said, gesturing for Nick to take his seat again. “That’s what I’ve gathered you all here to discuss.”

Once Nick was seated, though Bucky remained on his feet, the Regent fanned his hand towards him. Hydra, who’d been in his lap, mimicked the movements.

“As you all know,” his uncle began, “I was selected as Regent fifteen years ago after the tragic death of my sister-in-law and her husband, King George and Queen Winifred of Brooklyn. Not to mention their youngest, a daughter, Princess Rebecca. Since then, I have ruled in their absence while raising their remaining child and heir to the throne, Prince James.”

“We know all of this.” That would be Baroness Whitney Frost, brilliant as she was beautiful. She stroked the long fur of the golden monkey that was her dæmon. “We were quite in support of it if you recall.”

The others nodded in agreement. All except Nick. He simply watched the Regent with a look Bucky’d never seen before. Odd. As far as he knew, they’d always gotten along. Nick would’t’ve left him with someone he hadn’t trusted. But suspicion kicked around the room now. Laced in the eyebrows of Bucky’s parents’ oldest friend. 

“I’m well aware,” Uncle Alex said. “What I called you all here to talk about today was young, James’ apprehensions about becoming King.” A weight sat on Bucky’s chest. He had no idea this was what they were here to talk about. His cheeks went hot and bright red. “Frankly, I agree with them.” Bucky’s heart fell. Winter stepped closer. “I don’t know that he’s ready to take on the responsibilities alone.”

“Then, let him come with me,” Nick offered. “I’ll take him with me to the borders. He can learn more there than being cooped up here.”

Bucky lit up at the idea. Already, he was nodding his head. That would get him out of here. Just for a little while. He’d see the kingdom. Villages. Meet people. See the world beyond polished marble and stained glass.

Only before he could really dare to dream, his hopes were scattered like ashes.

“That’s out of the question,” his uncle said. “James is not leaving my care.”

“I agree with the Regent.” Unsurprising of Lord Stern. “If you couldn’t protect the King and Queen, Sir Nicholas, what makes you think you can protect the prince?”

They went on like that, talking about Bucky as though he wasn’t even present—Bucky sighed and wondered if they were going to talk about him like he wasn’t even there why couldn’t they do this while he waited somewhere more pleasant. Like the pools, perhaps. The day was hot and sunny, and a swim did sound perfectly nice. He could indulge in some fresh fruit, served to him from silver platters. Gapes served to him straight from the vine if he preferred. Bucky smiled at the thought. Winter hissed a tiny growl.

“It’s my feeling that James needs someone to help him as he gets used to the transition,” his uncle was saying. “It was even difficult for me. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like for someone who always has his head in the clouds.”

Bucky wished he had an argument for that, but given how he was just imagining being hand-fed grapes it was hard coming up with one.

“So, what do you propose?” asked Duke Karpov, his lynx laying at his feet on the floor. “Are you going to hold his hand forever?”

Uncle Alex shook his head and fed Hydra a piece of bread. “No. Of course, not. That would be ridiculous. My position here as Regent, though, a long run, is only temporary. No, what I had in mind is a marriage.”

Just like that, they had _all_ of Bucky’s attention. Winter, who had also grown bored of their mindless and endless back and forths, and laid down, hopped back up to her feet. Marriage? What did that mean?

Even the council remained quiet in the face of the announcement. Nick sat up straight, hand gripping the arms of the chair.

“Marriage?” asked Sheriff Zemo. “To whom?”

“To someone of experience and wisdom. Who’s been nothing if loyal ever since entering my Household. He knows the land and the people better than anyone.”

Uncle Alex flicked his fingers to a servant that Bucky hadn’t even been aware was in the room with them. She left through one door—a servant’s door—and came back through the main doors with the person in question right behind her. He brushed past her after she presented him and Bucky felt faint. Winter let him lean against her, growling at the mongoose that strolled by.

“Your Highness,” Brock greeted Bucky with his right arm across his chest and bowing just enough to be considered respectful. He turned without rising. “Council.”

“Sir Brock Rumlow?” Whitney questioned. “The Head of the Guard?”

“This is who you’ve chosen?” Lord Stern nodded as though intrigued. “He does have a compelling record.”

“Absolutely not,” Nick exclaimed. “I will never agree to this.”

Turning to him as though stunned by the outburst, the Regent pulled his eyebrows in and tilted his head. Confusion passed over his face.

“I… I don’t understand, Nick,” he said. “I thought you’d be happy. I’ve found someone to help look after the prince when he becomes king.”

“Look at him.” Nick gestured to Bucky. “He doesn’t want this.”

“He’s just a boy. You don’t know him at all. You know what he does when you’re not here?” Uncle Alex scoffed. “He gets drunk. He shoves sweets down his throat. “He finds someone to stuff his cock into. He isn’t _fit_ to be king.”

Glands swelling in his throat, Bucky felt the rush of tears come on hard and strong. They stung but remained behind his eyes.

“Well then,” Sheriff Zemo said. “If that’s the case, perhaps it is best the prince goes through with this marriage.”

 _No,_ Bucky thought. _Please, say no. Say no_.

“It certainly makes sense,” Karpov agreed. “He’s been in your service for many years now.”

“What about an heir?” Nick asked. Clutching at strings. Plenty of kings had married brothers-in-arms or Queens their ladies in waiting. There were other ways to produce an heir.

“The Prince can still pass his seed along,” his uncle said and then grumbled, “If he hasn’t already.”

Bucky winced at that implication, his insides twisting with such thoughts. No one he laid with knew who he was. A visiting noble. That was the story. The Prince's best friend. _Entertain him as you would the Prince_. If he had a child out there no one would have reason to make it known. Winter would feel it, that much he knew, but he wondered if she'd keep such a thing from him.

“I, for one, fully endorse the idea,” Lord Stern said. “Sir Brock will be a good influence on Prince James.”

“I agree,” said the Baroness. “He can take care of the political areas while His Highness enjoys himself as he so obviously likes to do.”

“You have my support,” Sheriff Zemo said.”

The only one left to vote was Nick, who started from Bucky to Regent to councilmembers over and over before finally shaking his head as though trying to wake from a nightmare.

“No.” He slammed his hand down, Shield spreading her wings once but not taking off. “This is crazy. You can’t force him to marry someone.”

Karpov shook his head. “Many worse things have been done for the duties to one’s kingdom. A marriage is hardly the worst of them.”

“And an arranged marriage,” said the Baroness, “is far from unusual.”

“You can’t do this,” Nick said. “You’re just his regent. I’ve supported you in keeping him here, agreeing it was in his best interests but this is going too far.”

“And _as_ Regent and _you_ as a member of this council should understand more than anyone,” the Regent countered, “that sacrifices must be made in order to keep any kingdom running smoothly.”

They continued arguing like that, each of them putting their own thoughts and opinions in—only Nick refusing to agree with the rest of them. Even their dæmon growled and snarled and were all on edge. Not once did anyone ask what Bucky wanted or how he felt about all of this. The only one who even looked at him was Brock, and when he did, it was with a smirk and a wink.

Stomach turning to ash, Bucky needed to do something before it was too late.

“ _No_.”

The word burst from him like thunder, filling the room so loudly it drowned out every other word. All eyes fell on him. For just a heartbeat, everything was still. The Regent moved first, shifting in the throne while Hydra leaped from his lap to the dais.

“Did you have something to share with us, Nephew?”

“Yes. Or, I mean…” Bucky shook his head. “You’re all just sitting here, discussing _my_ future as though I don’t even exist.” His lip quivered slightly. He sucked it under his teeth. “I won’t marry him. I won’t.”

Once again, silence crept through the entire room. All Bucky could hear was the pulse pounding in his ears. The loud boom, boom, boom of his heart that lodged itself in his throat. Someone cleared their throat. A dæmon’s claw scraped across the floor.

Bucky didn’t dare move. Not only had he spoken out of turn, he’d spoken _back_ to his uncle _and_ did it in front of the council. No matter the outcome here today, he’d be facing trouble. More of it. Trouble that he’d once again brought upon himself.

Bucky almost laughed. Spoiled? Yes. Rotten? Yes. Able to be king? Probably not.

“Right then,” Uncle Alex said. “If you’ll all please excuse us, I think my nephew and I have a few things we need to discuss privately.”

Silently, everyone rose from their places and, without so much as a look in Bucky’s direction, left the room. The only one who spared a moment for him was Nick, who clapped a hand on his shoulder as he left.

“So, James,” his Uncle started once the room was emptied out save for them and their dæmons,” it appears we’ve reached a place in our relationship where you and I are butting heads. And I am very confused.”

He paused. Long enough that Bucky could only assume the break was meant for him to respond.

“Uncle, it’s just…” He forgot how to inhale. “I don’t want to marry him.” And then how to exhale. “I’ll marry someone if you feel that’s what’s best, I will, just, please, not him.”

Anyone but Brock Rumlow. If there had to be a marriage—and Bucky needed to be diplomatic about this—than anyone else was better than him. This must’ve been what he’d meant when he came to his chambers. This was how he’d make his life a living nightmare. Once they were married, Bucky would be stuck with him.

“I’ve chosen someone suitable for you.” His uncle was losing patience with him. The air grew thick around Bucky. Made it harder to breathe. “You think this is the life I chose? No, it isn’t. I was engaged to be remarried. I could have started a family. But no. I gave all that up to take care of you and _this_ is the thanks I get.”

Bucky winced. Guilt skewered through his gut and twisted around. He wasn’t the only one who lost a family to the fire. His uncle gave up his shot at starting one, too.

But if there was no changing his uncle’s mind about one thing, then perhaps this was Bucky’s chance at changing it about another.

“But, if Sir Brock knows the people like you said, then maybe I should go out there and meet them too. This way—”

“Oh, gods.” His uncle rubbed his eyes. Hydra did the same. “We’re back to this.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“James, it’s not safe.”

“Sir Nicholas offered—”

“We’ve already discussed this.”

“—and it would only be for a little while…”

“Enough of this, James!” Uncle Alex shouted, face red and one, thick vein bulging across his brow. “You are _never_ going out to the villages! _Ever_!”

Stunned silent, Bucky swallowed roughly. He opened and closed his hands and folded his lips in while Winter lets out a quiet whine and pressed her face against the back of his leg. Up on the throne, Uncle Alex groaned and slouched, rubbing circles into his temples.

“Great,” he muttered. Scratched a finger under Hydra’s chin. “Now _I’m_ the bad guy. I’m the one who does _nothing_ right. Blame _everything_ on me.”

Bucky lowered his head. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He hadn’t meant to ever be a burden on anyone, least of all his uncle.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Bucky murmured. “I never meant to be so selfish.”

“Well, no, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll marry him.” Bucky’s stomach turned to rot. His mouth like ash uttering such words. “I’ll marry him if you think that’s what’s best.”

A smile quirked up on his uncle’s mouth. He nodded as he sat up straight again.

“I do, Nephew. And I think this is a wise decision. The first you’ve made on the path to being king.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered. Something was stuck in his throat. “May I be excused now, Uncle?”

“Yes, James. You’re excused.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Bucky tried not to storm out of the throne room with thick tears in his eyes. It was almost unsatisfying having servants there to pull the doors open for him. He would’ve loved to’ve heard them slam against the wall.

“You,” he growled at the first maid he saw. “Come with me.”

Clearly flustered, the maid and her mouse, turned in two different directions before following Bucky and Winter back to the Prince’s chambers. There, Bucky handed her a handful of coins.

“Go out and fetch me the best company you can with that. And when you’re back, bring up bottles of our finest wine and I want a feast fit for the prince that I am, do I make myself clear?”

The lady curtsied as she backed out of the room. “Yes, Your Highness. I understand.”

Once she had gone, Bucky paced around the room, stopping finally, by the mirror. His reflection was all wrong. All wrong. Cheeks too pale. Eyes all bloodshot. Behind his wrong reflection, Bucky caught a glimpse of Winter. He closed his eyes and didn’t turn around to face her. She hadn’t said anything this entire time.

“If you’re going to say something,” Bucky growled at her. “Just _say_ it.”

“I’m not going to say anything,” she answered softly. “Do what you have to do.”

Eyes flicking back to the mirror again, Bucky scowled at the person staring back at him. He grabbed a candelabra from the desk flung it, the glass shattering from the middle outward. Pieces fell out of the frame one by one until there was nothing left.

Bucky called in a maid to clean the mess.


	3. Chapter 3

Days may've past. Bucky long since gave up keeping track of them. It didn't matter anyway. In three months time, at the end of the summer, he'd be married to Sir Brock Rumlow. A knight of the highest standings. A man of noble blood. A person Bucky despised. 

There was nothing he could do to stop it. Even once he was crowned king, Bucky would still be bound to him. Royalty did not end their wedding vows. It was a binding oath. Once Bucky gave his hand to Brock in marriage there would be no taking it back. It would be mean shame and disgrace. Possibly even cost him his crown.

Bucky preferred not to think about it at all.

Instead, he spent these days drowned in wine and delicacies and men and women. 

“Bucky.”

No one should be calling him that. He's granted no such permission. They don't even know they're lying with the Prince let alone his nickname. 

“Bucky, wake up.”

“No,” he muttered. To who, he didn’t know. He didn’t either. He just stuffed he head under the pillow. “Go away.”

The pillow did not stay over his head for long. Someone ripped it away so suddenly that it took a second to realize what it was that even happened. He glanced around the room. In the bed with him was a pretty blonde, but she was very obviously still sleeping and for some reason, Bucky wasn’t and that didn’t seem very fair.

Bucky smacked his lips together and rubbed his eyes. Pillow or no pillow, the bed was comfortable and whispered sweet, wonderful words to him and Bucky generously accepted its invitation to lay back down. 

“ _Bucky_!”

“What?!” Bucky snapped before realizing it’d been Winter calling him all along. “Oh. What is it?”

“Is this what you plan on doing?”

Bucky shook his head. “What?”

“Is this it?” she asked. “Is this all you’re going to do from now until the wedding?”

The mention of it made Bucky’s stomach turn. That was the first time Bucky could recall Winter rever bringing it up. He turned away from her.

“So what if it is?” he muttered. “What difference does it make?”

A growl rumbled through her belly. It was so strong, Bucky could almost feel it in his own. Before he could even make a fuss about her disrupting his sleep, she clamped her teeth into his sleeve and rolled him off the bed.

Bucky landed on the floor. Hard. With a thud that shot through his whole body. From bottom up to crown. 

“Ow?” He rubbed at his backside. “What was that for?”

“For being ridiculous,” she answered. “As well as your more recent atrocious behavior.”

Scoffing, Bucky reached for the nearest bottle of wine and poured some into a chalice. He swished it around.

“And what would you have me do?” he asked. “I gave my word. As Prince, I’m bound by it.”

“Yes, you gave your word,” Winter agreed. “But your word doesn’t need to be kept until the _end_ of the summer. You have all this time until then. Are you going to waste it or have you forgotten all about your plans?”

Bucky stared at her, picking up on her meaning after only a moment. He couldn’t quite believe his ears, but genuine truth gazed back at him in those gray eyes.

“But…” Bucky, for the first time in such matters, hesitated. “My uncle…”

“So we beg forgiveness when we returned,” Winter said. “Better than seeking permission that won’t be granted. We have to get out of here, Bucky. Before you’re made to marry that man. You should be allowed that much.”

Maybe he should be or maybe he shouldn’t. Either way, elation filled Bucky to the brim. He felt he could burst with it. Winter wanted to run away with him. He knew she’d wanted to before, but now it was different. Now she was going out of the way to make sure it happened. 

“We don’t have much time,” she said. “You’re uncle is meeting with the council for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Bucky questioned. “What time is it?”

“Just past evening.” 

She nuzzled against him. Comfort when he didn’t even ask for it but realized after she came close he needed. He glanced out the window to find it dark. Yet he’d been sleeping and found he’d gladly fall back into clouds of blankets and pillows and let them cradle him back to a peaceful slumber. 

“Oh, gods,” he whispered. “What have I been doing?”

“Grieving,” Winter answered. “But that’s okay. You’re allowed. And you’re doing something about it now.”

The fact that he’d been spending so much time hiding in his chambers proved useful for this quest. Food and extra money sat around for his use to be packed away. Not that they could carry much with them. Bucky grabbed two loaves of bread and some cheese and cookies. That should at least get him through the woods. He had a pouch of gold coins would be enough to for a few weeks of living in a village.

All of that went into a satchel that had silver latches and leather bindings. The last thing Bucky grabbed was his blue jacket. It had been his father’s and he wouldn’t leave it behind. Plus, sometimes, even in the summer, it got cold out. 

Once they were sure they had everything they needed, Bucky pushed the door open and checked both ends of the corridor. He waved Winter onward. 

They met no one on the way outside. No obstacles. Bucky hadn’t even bothered with a torch. Only went down the steps on memory. 

“Which way are we going?” Winter asked as they ran across the courtyard.

“Your way,” Bucky assured her. “Over the tree.” 

None of the guards were in their normal spots. Bucky couldn’t spot any of them. Winter didn’t catch any of their scents. If they were near, they were far from sight. 

For a moment, Bucky contemplated whether or not he and Winter should continue. Maybe they’d been reassigned and wherever they were would give them a better view of him. If they were caught this time he wouldn’t see the light of day for the rest of the summer. 

“What should we do?” Winter asked. “Do we go on?”

Bucky sucked in a breath of courage. “Yes.”

He dashed for the tree and when he got there, Bucky understood exactly why no one was around to stop him. Or maybe it was all just in his head. It didn’t matter anyway. The branches of the tree that would lead him over the gates had been cut down. 

Bucky’s heart broke, pieces of splintering and falling to the ground like the bark of what remained of the branches cut and carted away. Just like his chance to get out of here. 

“No,” Bucky whispered. “Oh, no…”

“There must be another way,” Winter said. “There just has to be.” 

“There isn’t. You know there—”

His mouth snapped closed, the words clipping off with it. Above them, an owl landed in a leftover, lower branch. A dæmon. Bucky spun around. Searched. And spotted who he was looking for. 

“Nick!” He appeared out of the shadows, long dark trench coat almost blending with the night. “This isn’t what it looks like. I wasn’t—”

“You mean you _weren’t_ looking for the secret door hidden among the brush that hasn’t been opened since your father and I were children?” Nick shrugged. “No, I wouldn’t think so. How would you even know about that door when your own grandparents didn’t even know about it?” Nick shook his head and stretched his arm out for Shield. She glided back down and perched there. “No, I suspect you’re just out for an evening stroll with Winter. We’ll leave you to it.” 

Nick turned then. Strolled away as though no interaction had taken place at all. Bucky watched him until he disappeared out of sight. Confusion scattered around his brain. Fractured as it tries to get out so logic can once again sit where it belongs. 

“Did he just…?” Winter tried to ask, clearly just as baffled as Bucky. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a door.”

“Behind the brush he said,” she pointed out. “Look behind the ivy and the vines.”

Bucky did just that. He pulled and lifted and parted. Nothing. Just cold stone. Meant to keep people out. Good for keeping Bucky trapped. He kept trying. Nick had no reason to lie. No reason to make him believe something that wasn’t true. Bucky kept shoving the thick, rough stems out of the way, his skin tearing on thorns enough that even Winter winced a few times. 

Hand on the wall, Bucky felt for a door. Wooden. Maybe even copper hinges or a doorknob. That wasn't what he found. Instead, the wall dropped back. Bucky gasped. 

There was a handle there, old and worn. Hard to see but not hard to miss once he found it. A door. Bucky turned the handle and pushed it open. Just like magic, the world was right in front of him. All he needed to do was step out into it. There was no lock that Bucky could see. No key that needed to be used. He realized, with an unsteady beat of his heart, that once he closed this door behind him, he wouldn’t be able to get back through. 

Bucky glanced down at Winter. She’d already been looking up at him. Once their eyes caught, any fears and trepidations that spun through him were tucked away in the corners like cobwebs. Swaying in the wind while easily ignored. They nodded at each other and stepped through the door and beyond the castle gates.

“Be sure to shut it right,” Winter told him. “We don’t want anyone else to know.”

“I know how to close a door, Winter.” 

It was closed. Bucky knew it was closed because he could hear the latch click. He gasped when it did and took a step back. Looked from side to side. Bucky couldn’t believe how different things looked from this side of the castle grounds. It was so big. And he was so…

Free.

“We did it,” he whispered. “We actually did it!”

Together, he and Winter ran as far as they could into the woods, laughing and falling all over themselves as they did. They stayed near the main road so as not to lose their way, but off it so as not to get caught. 

They ran and walked and then ran some more. Until Bucky was panting and beginning to realize walking through the woods in the middle of the night wasn’t the easiest of chores. He couldn’t see where he was going. The moon did provide enough light that it wasn’t pitch black, but he’d tripped on several occasions. Over rocks and stumps and probably branches. 

Plus, there were noises he’d never heard before. Animals, he assumed. They did live here after all so it wasn’t quite fair of him to be annoyed that they chatted away and spooked him. 

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Winter suggested when Bucky’s jacket caught on a branch and he huffed as he struggled to free himself. “You’ll feel better again in the morning.” 

Bucky sighed. “Yes, okay. I am tired.”

Finding an open spot under a tree, Winter curled up and beckoned Bucky over. It occurred to Bucky as he came to sit with Winter on the ground that it was covered in frost. The temperature had really dropped that much overnight. Pulling his coat around him, Bucky huddled together with Winter. Though circumstances were usually different, sleeping against Winter was one of Bucky’s favorite things in the world and even if the ground was hard and lumpy tonight, he still fell asleep to the sound of her beating heart. 

*** 

Sunlight, harsh and cruel, slapped Bucky in the face much too early in the morning. He longed to be able to grab hold of a pillow to pull it over his head so he could hide from it. Unfortunately, out there in the woods, he had nothing but moss and dirt and a wolf. None of those were exactly viable options to shove his head under. 

He turned over. Found every bone in his body—even those he didn’t know existed—ached. Bucky smacked his lips together. They were dry. His mouth, too. He grabbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.

“Are you awake?” 

Winter’s voice came out too loud. Hurt Bucky’s ears and head and the rest of his body. Even though she spoke no louder than usual. 

“I don’t want to be,” he grumbled. “I think I want to die.” 

“Well, that’s fine for you, but I’d rather go on living, thank you very much.” She pushed at his neck. “Come on. You need to eat something.”

They didn’t have much. Just what he still had stashed away in his chambers. Some bread. Two pieces of melon. A little bit of cheese. Nothing that would last them. 

Bucky sat up and opened the small pouch to take out one of the pieces of bread. He ripped it in two and gave one to Winter who was able to finish it off in one bite. Bucky took his time. Picking at it until there was nothing left. 

“What do we do now?” Winter asked. “We made it through the door but… now what?”

This wasn’t something Bucky really ever fully thought about. Going off on some daring adventure or sailing the seven seas, sure. Maybe just going off with Nick, yes. But when it came to this plan of just getting them out for a little while, he never really thought they’d make it this far.

“The village?” Bucky shrugged. “I guess.” 

“Okay, but… how? How do we get there?”

That was a problem, too. All Bucky knew about the village was that it resided in the west. They couldn’t take the road. No doubt his uncle would have it fully patrolled. They’d be caught within the day. If Bucky wanted this summer to himself before he was forced into this marriage, he had to stay hidden amongst the trees. Away from the road. Probably deeper than they already were. 

“Come on, let’s-oh, gods, _shit_.” Bucky grabbed his back, unable to stand up right away. “I don’t ever wanna sleep on the ground again.” 

“You slept against me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” She helped him keep his balance. “Take your time.” 

They did take their time, stopping, at first, almost every few minutes for Bucky to stretch some more. After a little while, they were able to move for longer stretches of time. Not that it mattered. 

Bucky tripped and fell and got hit in the face with branches. Even with the sun to guide him. He got stuck in bushes and his boot was sucked into a mud puddle. That took him a good ten minutes to fish out. Some time around midday he peeled his blue jacket off. How had it gotten so ridiculously hot out so quickly?

He hated this. What the hell was he thinking? There was no way he was going to make it like this all the way to the village. Bucky didn’t even know how long it would take to get there. To make matters worse, he’d been walking the past half an hour with a pebble in his shoe. His back hurt. His neck hurt. His legs hurt. 

“Uh oh,” Winter said.

She’d been walking a few feet ahead of him while Bucky, too exhausted to keep her four-legged pace, lagged being. When she said that, though, his shoulders fell. He couldn’t imagine what could be wrong now.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“What do you wanna do about this?”

Not sure what she meant, Bucky moved closer and damn near cried at what he saw. A fallen tree. Huge. Right in the middle of the path that—hopefully—ran parallel with the road towards the village. If they tried to go around, not only would it eat up so much more of their time, it also ran the risk of getting them lost. That’s if they were really headed in the right direction anyway. 

“Um.” Bucky sighed. “I guess we should try to go over it.”

Her head lowered, but she otherwise made no objections. Instead, she simply found a stump and hopped over the tree in nearly one leap. 

Bucky groaned again. Before even attempting to get over the fallen tree behind Winter, he had to pull a boot off and shake the pebble out.

“Are you coming?”

“ _Yes_!” Bucky snapped and hurried to lace back up. “Don’t rush me!” 

The tree looked so much thicker when he was faced with having to climb over it. He glanced up at the sky. Wondered—hoped, really—that maybe they’d made a mistake. Bucky was definitely not an expert in navigation, he did know the four basic directions and how to find them. If the nearest village was in the west, then following the sun was the right way to go. Which meant he had to climb over this damn tree. 

A small voice inside his head—which sounded suspiciously like his uncle—told him to just turn back and go home. Face whatever consequences awaited. 

The cowardly part of Bucky’s heart wanted to agree to that suggestion. It was the safe one. Where a warm bed with satin sheets and silk pillows stuffed with goose feathers waited for him. Where there were servants that would prepare him anything he wanted to eat. Where he could toss some coins at the right people and get hours of pleasure. 

The braver part, the one that got him through the door last night, took in a deep breath and got a grip around the rough branch. Bucky grunted, his foot slipping once, twice, and then finally got himself over the tree. He lost his footing and fell, but he made it. 

“Did you take a nap before deciding to join me?”

Bucky sighed and flicked a glare up to his dæmon from the flat of his back. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Although you’re rather annoying when you’re cranky.”

“I am _not_ cranky.”

“Oh?” Winter sat back in the soft, green grass. It was hot, the sun’s golden rays casting cones that shimmered with sparkling brilliance throughout the trees, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Then what are you?”

“I’m _hungry_ ,” Bucky said as he sat up. “And tired and thirsty.” 

“I know. Me, too.”

Winter came to lend him a hand. She picked up the small pouch containing Bucky’s bit of belongings they had with them and carried it carefully between her teeth. Bucky leaned a little of his weight against her. He grinned. Small, but still. 

Being up next to Winter felt like home. Safe and warm. It reminded Bucky of a time he wasn't even sure was a real memory. Just a feeling inside, really. A voice. Arms wrapped around him. A pair of dark, walnut eyes that radiated kindness.

 _My mother,_ Bucky thought. 

Those fragments of glass, shattered and gathering dust and scattered throughout the years, were the only memories Bucky really had of his mother. If there were portraits of his family, he'd never seen them.

Bucky almost laughed. For all he knew the picture in his head had morphed so many times that it looked nothing like her.

“What just happened?” Winter asked. “You were sad and then…”

“Nothing,” Bucky said. “It’s-oh, gods.”

Winter’s ears perked up, the fur on the back of her neck lifting as she quickly looked around.

“What? What is it?”

“Look!” He pointed to the right and sprinted that way. “Water!”

A pond, sure, full of stagnant and probably dirty water, but water nonetheless. Bucky fell to his knees at the pond’s edge, dropped his hands right it, and slurped right from his palms. It tasted horrible. So horrible that if it’d been served to him out of a chalice at a feast, he’d spit it back out. But out here, Bucky gulped it down. While cold would be better, but even this tepid water did wonders.

As Bucky continued to drink—so desperate and sloven that water dripped down his chin and out of the corners of his mouth—Winter put her tongue to the pond and winced.

“Bucky, this water is no good,” she said. “You’re going to get us sick.” 

She may have been right, but Bucky didn’t care. He just went right on drinking. Given how hot it was, he even considered dunking his entire head into the water. 

“Um. You should probably drink from the river, that water’ll make you sick.” 

A shock rolled over Bucky. Quick and sudden and it caught him by such surprise that he almost choked on the water he’d just put in his mouth. As it was, he _did_ cough some back out and fell completely onto his backside. From on the other side of the pond, someone laughed. 

A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark golden blonde hair that swept over his brow. Blue sparkled under crinkled eyes as he laughed. At Bucky. 

Behind him, Winter pushed at his back to help him up to his feet again. Bucky struggled slightly. His muscles still ached from last night—his neck sore, his back stiff, his legs wobbly. But as soon as he was standing again, Bucky’s hands clenched to fists.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he yelled. “Do you have any idea who you’re laughing at?”

The laughter, though sweet and rich as honey, eased to a stop. The owner of the laugh took a step closer, his bare feet sinking a little into the mud where dirt met moisture and it was only then that Bucky realized he was kneeling in the mud himself. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I can wager a guess. Based on your clothing and enough sense to drink from the pissing pond rather than the river, I’d say you’re some aristocrat’s son who decided to run off and have... a daring adventure! See the world, you thought, but then you realized the world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?” He flashed a grin. Big and wide and Bucky would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t so patronizing. “How’s that? Close?”

The first thing Bucky wanted to do was march right across the small amount of water that separated them and punch this man right in the nose. Well, no. The first thing he really wanted to do was gag. Pissing pond? Did he mean that the way it sounded? 

The second thing he _actually_ did was take in this man’s clothing. He was dressed in rags compared to Bucky. Pants just a bit too short, cutting off just above the ankles with a mismatched patch sewn in at the right knee. Shirt made out of cotton if Bucky had to guess. 

He wasn’t dressed nearly as nice as Bucky, but he was much cleaner, other than his bare feet. His face was clear of dirt. So were his clothes. His hair, too, was clean. 

This, for some reasons, only angered Bucky even more. 

“I’ll have you _know_ ,” he growled. “That _I’m_ actually-ow!” 

“Ow?” he asked. “Your name is Ow?”

Bucky glanced down at Winter, who only nipped at him when it was something important. Maybe she was right. Giving away his true identity might be bad. 

“Um. No. Of course not. But I’m not afraid of some woodsy peasant boy with a chipmunk for a dæmon.” 

Of that, he had no real proof. Bucky didn’t even see his dæmon, but there were no large ones around anyway, so it had to be some small woodland creature. It made sense. Probably fit with this man anyway. Chopping wood. Hunting. Annoying lost princes in the forest. 

A look of surprise passed over his face. For a moment, that smile of his faded. Then it came back. Disarmingly so. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” he said. “Do you see one?”

He turned once, in a circle, hand above his eyes as though shielding them from the sun as he searched high and low for something. 

“What?” Bucky asked. “What’re you talking about?”

“A woodsy peasant boy with a chipmunk for a dæmon.” His smirk deepened. “Do you see one?”

Bucky's stomach folded. He glanced down at Winter, but Winter was already crouched in a defensive position. Ears pinned back. Fur on edge. Fangs, not bared, but close to it.

A twig snapped. The noise sounded almost purposeful and was the only warning they got before a lioness, big and lean and golden, crept into sight.

She let out a low, deep growl, rolling through her chest, the sound coming out through teeth and quivering, angry lips. Winter growled in return, though it did not match in intimidation or force. They both knew it. They all did. 

Bucky, knees shaking and breaths staggered, stumbled backward. Winter took a step forward. 

“Bucky,” she muttered through a clenched jaw, “I think we bit off more than we can chew.”

Yes. Yes, they did. If this came down to a fight, Bucky couldn't guarantee he'd even hold his own against this guy. If he got hurt, so would Winter. And he certainly didn't want Winter to have to fight a lioness. 

“I… I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to insult you.” 

For a moment, silence descended upon them. Winter and the lioness continued to glare at one another while Bucky just waited for someone to do something. Which ended up being another burst of laughter loud enough to shock Bucky into stumbling back again.

“Come on, Ow,” he said as his laugh settled into something of a warm smile. “We’ll take you to the river for a real drink.”

Both he and his dæmon turned then as if nothing at all unusual had transpired between any of them. Bucky thought he heard the lioness mumble something that sounded suspiciously like _I’ll give them a chipmunk_ , but he couldn’t be positive. He _did_ hear the response though, which was another snicker along with a soft caress between lion ears, and a “I think you proved your point, Cap.” 

“Should we go with them?”

Bucky took a quick glimpse at Winter who, no longer on edge, looked just as conflicted as he felt. They were both thirsty. And hungry and tired and lost. This might’ve been their best shot at getting their way out of this forsaken place. 

“Come on,” he murmured as he started after them. “They didn’t hurt us and I think they could have.”

Though she didn’t answer, Bucky could feel the slight apprehension as she followed along anyway. This wasn’t what they planned. A night headed west. Then the village. Not getting hopelessly lost in the woods and unexpectedly running into some random peasant and his lioness dæmon. 

Still, if this random peasant and his dæmon could be useful in getting them headed back in the right direction, then this was a risk they’d just have to take. 

When they caught up with them, Bucky cleared his throat and asked, softly, timidly even, “Do people really… _go_ in that… pond?”

That made him laugh again. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that. Let’s just say it’s not the sort of water anyone should be drinkin’, kay?”

Bucky didn’t really like the sound of that. Even if it wasn’t contaminated with urine it was still filthy and it was the first water he’d put in his mouth all day. He almost wanted to cry.

“Bucky.” 

He glanced over his shoulder and didn’t appear bothered by the sudden lack of sight and having to worry about what was in front of him. Used to the woods, then, and all the obstacles that nabbed Bucky and pulled him to the ground. His dæmon—named Cap, maybe—strolled on ahead as if unthreatened by the secret prince and his wolf. Her strut was intentional, though. A warning. She might’ve been cool and calm and collected, but she would—and could, as already proved—turn deadly at a moment’s notice. 

“What was that?”

“My name,” Bucky clarified. “As opposed to ‘Ow’. It’s Bucky. I’ll let you use it if you’d like.”

It wasn’t very customary for royalty to allow just anyone to use their given name. Nobody but Winter and Nick—and occasionally his uncle—ever called him Bucky. Still, he was met with a high-pitched laugh and a lift of this man’s eyebrows.

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you?” he asked. “Is that some kind of honor, then?”

Bucky shook his head. He wasn’t used to this. He was used to people fumbling over themselves to get him whatever he wanted and to please him and to respect him. This man was vulgar and rude and laughed in his face when he accidentally drank filthy water. Bucky tried to gather his thoughts. Keep his wits about him before this commoner got the better of the situation.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” he told him. Shoulders back. Chin up. Though he couldn’t quite look down at him since he was a few inches taller. “Nobles don’t just hand out their names very often to commoners, we use our titles.”

“Oh, I shall practice my curtsy then.” He rolled his eyes but held a hand out anyway. “Nice to meet you, Bucky, I’m Steve.” 

Bucky took a glance at the offered hand. He’d never actually done this before, such a familiar greeting. As the prince, people typically bowed and the only people Bucky ever knew were the servants in the palace and those in Court. Any touching done was initiated by Bucky first. 

“It’s not gonna bite.” Steve laughed. “And it’s cleaner than yours.” 

Rolling his eyes, though not enough for it to be seen, and wondering if this was how Steve always behaved, Bucky shoved his hand into his and shook it. 

“There now,” Steve said as he continued walking. “That didn’t hurt, did it?” Bucky opened his mouth to respond—with what, he wasn’t sure—but before he could, Steve asked, “What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

That almost pulled Bucky up short. Even Winter looked up at him with curiosity in her eyes. What was he going to say? The first thing that came to his mind, apparently. 

“Well… what are _you_ doing out here?”

Maturity at its finest. Bucky practically heard Winter rolling her eyes at him. 

“Me?” Steve shrugged and gestured to the side where Bucky finally caught sight of the river he’d mentioned. “Word is, Count von Doom is set to be riding this way. And I intend to rob him.” 

Already moving past him and for the river—though Bucky would’ve given anything to run for it—he tripped over his feet as what Steve just said really had a chance to sink in. He turned. 

Steve didn’t look like he’d said anything out of the ordinary. As though claiming to be out here to rob someone was perfectly normal. In fact, he simply reached out and plucked a few berries off a bush. Popped them into his mouth and then offered a bug he snatched to his dæmon. She took it and then nuzzled against his hand. 

Ignoring the fact that Steve had just taken a bug out of the bush as well, Bucky ran over that once again in his head.

“You… You’re lying, right?” Bucky asked. 

His gaze flicked back at him. “About?”

Really? 

“About robbing Count von Doom.” Bucky watched him cautiously. “You… you wouldn’t say that if you were being honest about it, right? It was just a joke.” 

“It’s not a joke,” Steve said as he and his lioness strolled past him to get to the river’s edge. He glanced back right before they reached it. “And I’m always honest.” 

If Bucky wasn’t so thirsty, he might’ve thought to argue. Nobody could be honest all the time. But seeing him and his dæmon drinking what looked to be such cool, refreshing water and any words of argument escaped him. Even Winter pushed him forward. 

When Bucky finally had himself a taste of the water, he almost groaned out loud. The river must’ve been magical. He’d never tasted anything more wonderful in his life and gulped more and more like he never would again.

“Slow down,” Steve said. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.” 

“I don’t care,” Bucky grumbled between slurps. “This is delicious.” 

“It’s just because you’re thirsty and that’s clean and fresh. It’s just plain water, I promise.” 

Regardless, Bucky just ignored him and kept drinking. Next to him, Winter, who’d already had her fill, stayed close. Steve picked more berries off a different bush. They looked different than the other ones. The ones from before were green and red. The new ones were purple. 

“Here.” He handed a bunch to Bucky. “Have some.”

Bucky looked at the berries and would’ve taken some—his stomach certainly wanted him to—but he didn’t. These weren’t the ones that Steve ate. Had he given him different ones on purpose? Was there something wrong with them? Were they poisoned? 

Even though his stomach loudly protested, Bucky rolled his fingers back in and shook his head.

“You’re not hungry, then?” 

Stomach betraying any lie, Bucky sighed and just glanced the berries in Steve’s outstretched hand before flicking his gaze up to him. As if able to read the suspicion brewing in Bucky’s eyes, Steve nodded once and mostly to himself. Almost as though confirming something that Bucky didn’t understand. He pulled his hand back. Popped one of those berries into his own mouth with a crooked grin playing on his lips. 

“You sure you don’t want some?”

“He did that on purpose!”

Though Bucky thought it, it was Winter who yelled it. Angry and unafraid to show it. She didn’t yell to Steve, but rather his dæmon. The lioness, who had been relaxing upon a flat rock in late afternoon sun, her tail flicking from side to side, yawned as if hardly paying attention to what’d been going on around her. 

“Of course he did,” she replied. “He had to find out if he had _some_ brains. Turns out he does.”

“Captain,” Steve said. “Don’t be mean.” All she did was lean up against him as he held out the berries again. “Have some. Then we’ll show you to the main road so you can be on your way.” 

Now that he knew they were safe for consumption, Bucky gabbed all of them and stuffed them into his mouth at once. Probably a mistake, that. They were a bit sour to the tongue and to be fair, the second he started shoveling them in, Steve _did_ try to warn him. Still, despite the taste, Bucky managed to keep from spitting them out and swallowed. 

Steve laughed and clapped a hand on his back, hard enough that it made Bucky jerk forward. He even called him a trooper. For some reason, the thought of impressing Steve had Bucky smirking. Winter, he thought, was pleased as well. The way Steve slapped him on the back, too. With the friendly strength between comrades and not as though Bucky was made out of glass. He couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever touched him like that. 

They made their way through the trees then, with the sun at their backs and Steve’s assurance that this was the right way back to the main road. Yes, the village was west, but if they wanted the road, the fastest route was this way. Bucky asked if he lived there, in the village. Steve chuckled quietly and told him no, not exactly. Bucky asked him if he lived in a cabin in the woods. Steve smiled and said, no, not exactly. Bucky asked him if he lived on a farm in the countryside. Steve chuckled quietly and told him no, not exactly. When Bucky asked what not exactly meant, Steve said he’d have to stick by him to find out. 

“What does _that_ mean?” Bucky asked, growing irritated once more with this _boy_ from the woods. “This is not a difficult question, do you live in the village or in the woods or not?” 

“Maybe it _is_ a difficult question and you just don’t know _why_ ,” Steve answered. “Or maybe I’m simply disinclined to divulge the truth to your rather pushy inquisitions for personal reasons.” When Bucky didn’t answer that one, Steve glimpsed over his shoulder and said, “Means it’s none of your business.”

“I _know_ what it means.” 

“He’s still cranky,” Winter said. “It was a long night.” 

“I am _not_ cranky.”

“Sounds cranky to me,” Captain agreed with Winter, who now walked alongside her. “Steve gets the same way.”

“I do not!” 

As though this brand new information gave him some sort of edge over Steve, Bucky gave him a triumphant grin. This did nothing, of course, but get an eye roll and a snort. At the moment, Steve wasn’t the cranky one, and Captain went on to say that it took a lot more than a night in the woods to get him that way. 

While Winter told them all it took was Bucky losing a few hours of sleep, and Bucky flushed so hard his cheeks felt hotter than they had all day, Steve came to an abrupt halt in front of him. Bucky found out by slamming into his back. 

“What the—”

“Shh…”

Though Steve held his hand up, Captain made the shushing sound. Winter’s ears twitched. Off in the distance, Bucky could just make out the sounds of a horse coming closer. Through the trees, he could see the road they were headed for. 

“Damn,” Steve grumbled. “Wait here.” 

“Wait here…” Bucky hesitated as Steve and Captain darted away. “Does that mean us?”

“Yes, you!” Steve called back. “Who else?!” 

Bucky and Winter watched as Steve raced to the edge of the road, pausing only for a moment to snatch up what looked like a church’s collection dish that was kept hidden within the shrubbery. Within moments, that horse and its rider were in view and Steve stepped out onto the middle of the road just in time to startle the animal. It bucked, but the rider had enough control of it that he didn't fall off. Though the distance between them made it too difficult to actually hear, Bucky could tell Steve was being yelled at and, given the man's grip on his riding crop, was in for a beating.

“Serves him right,” Bucky muttered. “Why would he just step out in front of someone's horse like that? What is he even _doing?”_

What he was doing, precisely, was holding that church plate out like a beggar. When the man continued to shoo him away, and Steve continued to not listen, even Bucky found himself growing impatient. Until Steve, still with that smirk, shrugged, flipped the plate, and flung it right at the man's face.

“Oh gods!” Bucky exclaimed. “What the—"

“My guess,” Winter said as the man fell from his horse, “is that would be Count von Doom.”

No. No, it couldn't be. Steve really wouldn't… but then… if that _was_ Count von Doom—and Bucky wouldn't know since his Uncle and Count von Doom did not get along and he'd never met the man—Steve had just knocked him off his horse. With what Bucky now realized wasn't a church collection plate, but a round shield.

Doom stood and drew a dagger. At the same time, a cobra slithered between his feet. The dæmon said something, what, Bucky couldn't hear, but he could see Steve's eyebrows lift as he held still. Lifted up, the snake slithered forward.

“Should… should we do something?”

Winter snickered. “I don't think we need to.”

The cobra went in for her strike. Captain leapt out from the trees and pounced. They struggled a little. The element of surprise gave Captain the clear advantage, but the snake did manage to bite once or twice, and whenever she did, Steve would wince and gasp in the middle of his duel with Doom. 

Amazingly, Steve disarmed Doom at nearly the same time Captain pinned the snake to the ground with a big, mighty paw. 

Shrugging once more, Steve held the point of Doom’s dagger to his neck and said something to him. When Doom refused, Captain pressed harder and Doom cringed and gasped and, much to Bucky’s shock began undressing. 

Once fully naked, Doom got to his feet again and reached into the duffles slung over his horse. Looked like he handed Steve three bags before mounting the horse again after receiving Steve's go ahead. Captain released her hold on the snake, who did nothing but hurry back over to her human. Right before leaving, Steve reached into the pouch, pulled out a gold coin, and tossed it to the now very naked and humiliated Count von Doom. Steve gave him a salute and then slapped the horse in the rear end to her going.

And then Steve and Captain returned. Shield in hand and three bags of gold coins richer, they returned as if nothing happened at all.

“Anyway, I do _not_ get cranky,” Steve said as soon as they were back. “I just like things a certain-what? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

All Bucky felt capable of at the moment was staring. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He couldn't believe what he just saw. He wasn't even sure if what he just saw was real. Bucky wanted so badly to talk to Winter, but even she was just staring. Caught between being completely awed and mystified and horrified all at once, and that was no help at all.

“You just… you just _robbed_ that man!”

Steve looked over his shoulder as though the person in question would still be there, but he'd long since ridden off.

“That was Count von Doom,” he said. Nonchalant and casual. Simple as introducing him to someone he'd never met.

Bucky flung his hands out in front of him. “But you _robbed_ him!”

Confusion passed across Steve's face. He looked from Bucky to Winter to Bucky again.

“I told you I was,” he said. “Did I not make that clear?” He glanced down at Captain, who was seated right next to him, tail flicking back and forth. “Did I not make that clear?”

“I don't think they believed you,” she remarked.

“Can't say I'm all that surprised—” Winter replied.

“What?” Bucky exclaimed.

“—He hasn't all out _lied_ to us. Why would they start with that one?”

“I gave him a chance to give me only _some_ of it,” Steve pointed out. Probably what went on when he held the shield out to him. “He lied. Said he had nothing. Called me names. Told me to get fucked, in fact. So I took it all instead.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Bucky continued trying to make heads or tails of this whole thing. Maybe his Uncle was right. Anyone not of Court _were_ savages. Instead of earning wages—learning a trade or becoming an apprentice—he chose to steal. Steve was nothing but a common thief. Everything his Uncle warned him about.

“Why…” Bucky asked softly. “Why did you make him take his clothes off?”

Steve chuckled. 

“People don't chase you when they're naked.” He added another grin and for some reason, it made Bucky blush. Even Winter buried her face under her paw. “Anyway, you’ll want to head that way to get to the village. It's about another half day’s journey. Good luck to you, Bucky and Winter. Be careful out there. You might wanna think about hiding your rings and trading your clothes in for something less… ostentatious.”

The sun had already dipped below the horizon. Pinks and golds swirled through the sky and led the way towards the village. Above them, a few stars already peaked through a dark, velvet sky. 

Something daunting weighed on Bucky’s chest. Something Steve said. A half day's journey. That's how long it would take to reach the village. Shadows stretched fingers towards them. Covering the land and ready to close a fist of night over the land. Which meant another night out here. Which meant more aches and pains. Which meant no food and water for at least another half a day.

“W-wait.” Bucky looked at Winter and felt her agreement. “Maybe we… can come… with you?”

About to cross over the road, Steve stopped and didn't look at Bucky, but Captain.

“I dunno if they'll like it,” she said.

He nodded in response. “I know, but he's just a kid.”

Bucky thought he should have been insulted. He wasn't a kid. He was going to be king in less than a year. But then, Bucky didn't know much about life outside the palace. He hadn't even been able to get himself to the nearest village without the aid of a criminal. Maybe he was just a kid.

As soon as this thought settled like a new layer of dust, Winter pushed at his hand. He tried to smile down at her, but his mouth didn't seem to want to cooperate. 

“I didn't mean to _leave_ him,” Captain went on to say. “Of course not. Just that they might not be happy.”

“Whatever they feel,” he said, “I'll deal with it. I'm not leaving them out here by themselves.” Steve jerked his head. “C’mon, you two. You’re probably starving. Let’s get you something to eat.” 

A smile pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. Winter looked at him with the same feeling running through his veins. Excitement. Excitement and eagerness and anticipation of what was in store for the next as they followed Steve and Captain farther into the woods. 


	4. Chapter 4

“All I’m trying to say,” Bucky said, “is that instead of robbing people and stripping them of their clothing, perhaps you can find yourself work.”

“Hm…” Steve scratched his chin as though he’d never considered such an option. “What sort of work do you think someone like me could find? In your expert opinion—watch that branch.”

Bucky, hand bunched up in Winter’s fur as they walked, glanced down to be sure to step over the fallen branch he’d been headed for. They’d been walking for some time now. Actually, it couldn’t’ve been that long. Though it was nearing dark, it wasn’t quite there yet. Bucky could still see just fine, but that probably wouldn’t last much longer.

“A blacksmith,” Bucky said.

“What?”

“Or a fisherman.”

Steve shook his head. “A blacksmith or a fisherman what? Is this the start of some nobleman’s joke?”

Unsure what he meant by that exactly, Bucky elected to ignore it and sighed.

“You asked what jobs I thought you’d be good at.”

He hated when Steve laughed at him which, in the short while he’d known the man, had happened often.

“And that’s what you’ve come up with?” he asked. “A smithie and a fisherman?”

“Well, given your size and muscle mass,” Bucky said and blushed the very second the words were out of his mouth. That embarrassment rivered through Winter, who shook her head as though she’d been the one to say it. “The jobs seem suitable to a man of your stature.” 

“Manual labor, you mean,” Steve replied.

Before saying more, Bucky paused while Steve, Captain, and even Winter trudged through a muddy puddle. Bucky, who had gone through quite enough mud patches earlier in the day, didn’t follow. He wouldn’t. Not without assistance. He wouldn’t suffer the indignity of losing his shoe to the ground once more. 

Winter stopped. Bucky guessed he didn’t even need to explain himself to her since she only sighed and sat down right on the other side of the wet, soft ground. It was Captain who alerted Steve that their companions had stopped. He turned and held his hands to the side, annoyed, most likely, at the sudden stop. 

Bucky folded his arms over his chest and looked at the offending ground. Peasant or not, Steve _had_ figured out that Bucky was nobility and must’ve known this passage was completely unacceptable. 

“What is this?” Steve asked and then looked at Winter. “What is he doing?”

“I've had my fill of walking through mud today, thank you,” Bucky said. “I don't think it would be too troubling if you found me something to walk over.”

Eyes growing wide, Steve shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. He held a finger up as if he meant to scold Bucky, but it took a few seconds of silence before he even responded. When he did, it wasn’t even to Bucky, but to Winter. 

“Is he serious?” 

She sighed. “As the plague, I’m afraid.” 

Steve’s gaze flicked back to Bucky, that finger never lowering. Sounded like Captain muttered something about _the others_ would find him to be “such a joy”. Sucking in a deep breath through flared nostrils, Steve shook his head again. 

“Y’know, I could’ve left you at the side of the road.”

“But you didn’t,” Bucky replied. “Now, kindly find me some alternative way to cross or leave me here and carry the burden of being the cause of my death on your shoulders for the rest of your life.” 

Though Bucky would rather cross than stay behind, his bluff did cause Steve’s entire face to turn a dark shade of red. His fingers curled into fists and he clamped down on his jaw—or, more likely, his tongue. Without answering, he began to look around, and Bucky decided he liked being able to tell this man what to do. 

Just like back at the castle, a few carefully placed words and the right attitude was all it took. Steve didn’t need to _know_ Bucky was the Prince, but Bucky could still take command like one. An innate sense of nobility, he decided. He just couldn’t shake it. Bucky could put on a mask, but he was royal through and through, and people would respect that even if they didn’t realize it. 

Maybe it had taken a little while to figure that out, but even this Steve fellow had fallen in rank. The natural order of things, that’s just how the way the world worked. Which was why, even though he muttered the whole time and clenched his jaw and clearly didn’t care one way or another about Bucky’s boots, Steve still searched for a better way for him to cross. 

And must have spotted one back on the other side since he started coming back over. Only he stopped right in front of Bucky. Crowded all his personal space. 

“What—what’re you—”

“You’re going to be completely insufferable even just this _one_ night, aren’t you?”

Steve didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, he gave Bucky exactly what he was looking for and got him across the muddy puddles in another way. By tossing him over his shoulder and carrying him. 

“Steve!” Bucky exclaimed. Slammed his fists into Steve's back and kicked his feet up and down.“Put me down! I’m not a child!”

“You certainly act like one,” Steve said and dropped back right onto his bottom as soon as they were across. “Runnin’ around in woods you know _nothin’_ about and for what? For a little adventure in your dull and boring life up in your big, beautiful manor?”

Bucky grit his teeth. Next to him, Winter whispered a word or two about keeping calm. He could keep calm. That didn’t mean he couldn’t do something about Steve’s inappropriate behavior. Which, at the moment, meant grabbing a fistful of dirt and hauling it right at the man’s back. 

The second it struck, Steve stopped and stood up very straight. He glanced down at Captain before turning back to look at Bucky again. Bucky couldn’t tell if he was more angry or astonished at what just happened. 

“Did you…” He reached around and touched his back. “Did you just throw _dirt_ at me?” 

It might not have been the best course of action, but he still felt good for doing it. He couldn’t help it. 

“Must you be so rude?” he asked through clenched teeth. “You know nothing about me.” 

“And you know nothing about me.” Steve folded his arms over his chest. “That hasn’t stopped _you_ from making assumptions.”

Punching the ground, and only hurting his hand because of it, Bucky huffed and folded his own arms in suit. Off to the side, both Winter and Captain watched as though interested in what their humans might do next. Obviously, Winter couldn’t be worried too much. She hadn’t even said a word. 

“You’ve been nothing but rude and crass since the moment we’ve met,” Bucky accused. “I’ve done nothing to you other than happened to be lost in the same woods you’re wandering around in. Were you raised by wild animals? Was your mother a jackal?”

Steve dropped his arms with a sudden blaze to his eyes. Something about what Bucky said this time was different. Even Captain let out a low growl that got Winter on the defensive again. Steve was livid.

“Oh, _I’ve_ been rude and crass? Y’know, I thought I saw something different in you, but you nobles are all the same. Stuck up and rotten. Did you come all this way just to insult me?” He hovered over him now, leaning in closer the more he spoke so that Bucky needed to cower away. “Or was it more than that? I’m not the problem, am I? The problem is, you’re so bored with your life that you’ve got to invent things to complain about. You haven’t got a single thing to do with your day except for your hair.” Steve reached out and flicked it. “So you came out here and found the first person to boss around, well, lemme tell ya somethin’, buddy, that ain’t gonna go the way you planned cause Steve Rogers isn’t built that way. Whatever your problem is, you better stow that shit or—”

“My uncle is _forcing_ me to get married!” 

That made Steve’s painful, yet admittedly, accurate, words stop flying right at Bucky’s chest. He moved away, once again giving Bucky space to breathe. Watching Steve’s back—Steve, who had gone silently over by his dæmon—Bucky reached for Winter. 

To be honest, he had no idea why he even would have told Steve that. What did he care if his uncle was forcing him to marry? 

“Are you okay?” Winter whispered. “Bucky?”

He nodded and pressed his face into Winter’s side. “Mhm. I’m fine.” 

Maybe Bucky would have said more. He never got the chance even if he wanted to since Steve sat down next to him, reappearing as if out of nowhere. 

“When?” Steve asked. 

“What?”

“You said your uncle is forcing you to get married,” he clarified. “When is that happening?”

“Oh.” Bucky’s shoulders dropped. “At the end of the summer.” 

“Do you like her?”

“Him. And, no, not even a little.” 

“Why not?”

“What is with the interrogation?” 

Face burning red, Bucky felt something squeezing in his chest. It hurt. How could one man be so irritating? 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Yes, well, I—” Bucky shook his head and ran over that in his head again. “Wait, what did you say?” 

Steve scoffed a snicker. “I said I was sorry. For yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that. When you said…” He cleared his throat and swallowed that statement back down. Tried for another. “You said something and I overreacted to it. I do that sometimes. I’m sorry.” 

The look on Steve’s face made Bucky think his apology was sincere and genuine. When Bucky continued on not saying anything, Steve simply nodded and stood back up. Offered Bucky help back to his feet as well. For a few seconds, they stood close enough that their chests almost brushed together, and Bucky’s nearly put his hand on Steve’s cheek. 

He had no idea why the notion even crossed his mind. One second he wanted to use his hand to slap him and then the next he wanted to use it to comfort him. Steve definitely made his head spin. 

“It’s not much farther,” Steve whispered. “Come on.”

Pulling away, Steve and Captain continued onward, leaving Bucky and Winter to follow at their own pace. It took shaking the fog from his mind for Bucky to realize that he should hurry up if he didn’t want to be stranded in the woods in the middle of the night now that it was almost fully dark. Another night alone out here wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

They were silent as they walked now. Bucky didn’t know if that had to do with their little spat or if it was because they were getting closer to their destination. Steve said nothing, and Bucky had no intentions of breaking the silence. Not until Winter knocked into him enough to grab his attention. 

She jerked her head towards Steve. Bucky knew what she wanted from him. Knew, even, that it was the right thing to do. He sighed. The words tumbled around in his mouth for a few moments before he finally got them out. 

“Uh, I’m… sorry, too.”

“What?” Steve said from up ahead.

Bucky quickened his pace so that he didn’t need to shout. “I said that I was sorry. Something I said bothered you. I’m sorry for it.” 

He got a grin and a thank you for that, and though he hadn’t realized he’d been wanting it, relief trickled through Bucky. Steve wasn’t mad at him. Bucky’d said something that made him lose his temper enough to start firing away some very harsh, if not true, insults at him, but he didn’t stay angry. 

They may have even started talking again, but Bucky’s foot stepped on something that was most decidedly not the ground he’d been spending the last day and a half walking across. Winter must’ve noticed it too. She pawed at it. Couldn’t dig through at all. Bucky tapped his foot down on it to give it a test. Sure enough, it was a piece of solid wood. 

“Steve?” Bucky stared down at it. “What… am I standing on?”

“Do you trust me?”

Bucky glanced back up at him. Eyed him suspiciously despite the answer already slipping off his tongue. 

“Yes?”

“Then hold on tight.”

A thick rope was shoved into Bucky’s hand. He stared at it for a second and followed it all the way up to the treetops. 

“Okay.” He snickered. “What is this? Some sort of game you peasants like to—”

The ground was suddenly yanked out from under him. Bucky screamed as his stomach dropped to his feet and he kept screaming even when the air stopped rushing around him. The world spun. Everything was unsteady beneath his feet. Panic wrapped an ugly hand around his throat when he realized Winter was nowhere to be seen. 

But he didn't feel sick. A little uneasy, but not sick. Still trembling, Bucky glanced around and realized he was now standing on a deck of some sort. No. No, not a deck, a wooden bridge. High up in the treetops. Below him, a voice called.

“Are you alive up there?” Steve. It was Steve. “Did you survive?”

“What is—” Bucky needed to steady his voice. It didn’t really work. “What is all this? Where is Winter?”

“I’m right here,” she answered. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t get to assure her that he was fine. At least, he thought he was fine. Steve answered first. Amusement touched his voice when he replied. 

“Step onto the pathway,” he said. “I need to lower the lift back down so we can join you.” 

“You know,” Bucky said as he did just that. “If Winter wasn’t down there…”

“If she wasn’t down here, what?” Steve interrupted, “I have other ways to get up there. And trust me, you don’t want to continue on your own. You’ll find my friends not to be as… _welcoming_ as me.” 

Steve came up on the lift now, with both Winter and Captain on it as well. Unlike when Bucky went up, his ride was slow and smooth. When he got up there, Bucky made sure to greet him with a glare. Steve laughed. 

“I got you up here, didn’t I?”

He tied off the lift without sending it back down and picked up a lantern. From his pocket, he pulled out a match and within seconds they had light. Now that he had a better look, Bucky could see not just one bridge, but a series of them that ran like veins above the woods. 

“And…” Bucky looked around some more. “Where is here?”

Not really answering that, Steve once again led the way. They went through several small dwellings, each of them storing different things—blankets, tools, barrels, among some of them—and Bucky realized as they got even higher that the dwellings became bigger and homier. 

“This is where you live, isn’t it?” he asked. “These are tree houses.” 

“It’s where _we_ live, yes.” 

We, yes. Steve’d mentioned friends several times. So did Captain. Now that they were nearing their destination, Bucky could see flickering lights and hear the soft murmur of voices off in the distance. Once Bucky began to see people, he and Winter fell behind. Bucky, keeping in mind what Steve had said about his companions, even tried to hide. 

They were all in the biggest tree house, so high that the lanterns hanging all around from the roof most likely wouldn’t even be seen from the ground. Everyone there was doing something. 

Over by the wood-burning stove, a man with a falcon on his shoulder stirred a pot. With him, adding spices to whatever was cooking, was a young brunette. Bucky assumed the crow bounding near her was her dæmon. At the long wooden table, a redhead sat mincing meat. She chatted with the man across from her as he tinkered on some box, his spider monkey dæmon handing him tools as he did. A blonde man went around the table setting blows down, but every now and then he needed to juggle his hold on the pile as though he might drop them all. A yellow lab followed very closely. 

“Hey, Steve’s back.” The greeting came from a man coming through the entrance on the other side, his dæmon, a margay—a small, spotted wildcat—following behind. “What took so long?”

“Sorry, Rhodey.” Steve laughed. “We got a bit sidetracked.” 

Without mentioning, or even introducing Bucky to anyone, Steve dropped the three bags of gold that he’d robbed off of Count von Doom on the table. Everyone stopped what they were doing to check out Steve’s haul. At first, Bucky thought they’d do exactly what Steve had done. Start stealing pocketfuls for themselves. Instead, they didn’t even start divvying it up among each other. They didn’t even touch it. 

All they did was look at it, smile at Steve and comment about how it would go a long way. Then they simply went back to work. As if there _weren’t_ three bags of gold sitting out in the open on the table. 

Steve, now over by the two people cooking, chuckled at something the man said while Captain played with the falcon and crow. Jealousy prickled through Bucky, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Not that he had any right to the emotion. He’d known Steve less than a day. And he barely even liked him. No reason to be jealous just because he was no longer the center of Steve’s attention. Winter, too, must’ve felt a pang of it. Not quite for the same reasons. She’d never had another dæmon to be friends with. Watching Captain play probably made her long for something she never thought of before. 

“Hey, Steve?” asked the man with the monkey, still focused on his project even while talking. “Who’s the fancy kid lurking in our doorway?”

Shrugging, Steve took a taste of what it was that they were over there cooking. Neither Bucky nor Winter stirred. Winter’s fur stood on edge, though she kept just as still as Bucky. 

“Just someone I found in the woods, Tony,” Steve answered when he handed the ladle back to the man he was standing with. “Thought I’d bring him back for a meal.” 

“Yeah?” The redhead’s eyes wandered over Bucky’s body. “You’re right, Widow.” From behind her neck crawled out a black widow spider. “He does look like he’s hiding something.” 

As soon as she said that, Bucky hugged his bag to his chest. Probably not the wisest thing to do. It most likely just made him look even more suspicious, but he couldn’t help it. At the moment, everything he owned he carried in the bag. If they took it, he’d have nothing. 

“Hiding?” said the man Steve had called Rhodey. “Look at his clothes.” Bucky did. “And the jewelry.” Bucky did that too. “Screams nobility to me.”

“Did you turn his pockets out?”

The question, asked right behind Bucky by the man who’d been fumbling with all the bowls, made him start and take several steps into the room. Though the man wore a silly looking grin—his dæmon sitting at his feet with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth—Bucky couldn’t tell if he was serious about that or not. 

He clung tighter to his bag. Worry soared through him now. His uncle had warned him about this. Maybe Bucky was too naive to be out here on his own. Maybe Steve had just lured him back here to rob him like he had Count von Doom. Maybe they’d send him to the village in naught but his skin, humiliated and having to crawl back to his uncle.

By Steve’s reaction, Bucky had a feeling it may have been a little of both. He crossed back over, telling the redhead—Natasha, it turned out her name was—to _get your feet off the table, people eat here_. Once he got within reach, he took hold of Bucky’s arm. Firm. Authoritative. Even a little possessive. Bucky hated to admit he sort of liked it. 

“Avengers, listen up,” he said. “This here is Bucky. He’s gonna be spending the night with us. And he’s off limits.” 

The way they all looked at Steve, blanks stares and slacked jaws, made Bucky think this wasn’t their normal way of doing things. He wondered if, on any other day, Steve would’ve brought him back and indeed have let them rob him. Back when Steve crossed paths with Count von Doom, it looked as though he’d been asking him for money first. Perhaps, had he handed some over freely, Steve wouldn’t’ve robbed him at all. Maybe if Bucky spared a coin or two he'd be spared the humiliation Doom endured.

But after just a second, everyone shrugged and simply went back to doing what they had been doing when Steve brought Bucky in. Back to cooking, back to preparing, back to tinkering. Like Bucky wasn’t even there. 

“C’mon,” Steve said and gave a little pull to Bucky’s arm. “I’ll show you where you can put your stuff down and then we’ll put you to work.” 

Bucky crinkled his nose as he and Winter followed after Steve and Captain. Work? He’d never done a menial task in his life. He hardly doubted Steve meant they were going to train with swords or ride horses. Bucky thought back on the scene going on in the room they’d just gone through. All the cooking. The preparation. He wondered if they’d make him pluck the feathers off chicken. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve said when they reached a small hut that had a little hammock and a few cubbies. It wasn’t big enough for all of them so Captain waited just outside. “No one will take your things.”

Doubt already had enough time to grow stronger and stronger. Bucky didn’t like the way he’d been spoken to back there. Or the way they looked at him. Like someone they were just waiting to take advantage of. 

“How do I know that?” Bucky asked. “How do I know you’re not just bringing me here to take all of my things and humiliate me? You hate nobility, you practically said so.” 

As though amused, or maybe even impressed, Steve grinned. He stepped into the hut and pulled out a few blankets. Tossed them in the hammock.

“I’m not overly fond of nobility, that’s true,” he agreed. “But if I wanted to rob you I’d’ve done so already. I told you, I’m always honest. I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself, but I wouldn’t take too long.” 

Pushing the thick curtain that served as a door out of his way, Steve went to leave. 

“And if I do take too long?” Bucky questioned. “Then what?”

A sigh. Steve didn’t turn around. “We all work around here, Bucky. Each of us has a job to do. If you don’t do your job, you don’t eat.”

Though Bucky would have loved to answer that with some clever quip, and maybe he could have, his stomach had something to say instead. It hadn’t been full in nearly two days and loudly protested any argument Bucky wanted to make against working in order to feed it. As if knowing his point had been fully made, Steve nodded and left. 

The lantern provided plenty of light in there, not that there was much to see. Just a circular, wooden hut. A thatched roof. Nothing else in it by means of entertainment and Bucky hadn’t brought anything with him. 

“Things’ll be better in the village,” he murmured. Looked at Winter for that reassurance. “Right?”

Her eyes held the making of a shrug but she came over and leaned against him. 

“I’m sure it will, Bucky.” 

“It… it has to be.” Bucky nodded to himself. “The villagers won’t be like these… savages.”

People living out in the woods, up in the trees. Even if it was a most sophisticated system of bridges and huts and lifts. Bucky couldn’t help being impressed by it. Still, this was no way for him to be treated. He had money. Not much, but enough to at least rent a room for a few nights. Be treated better than this. But if he wanted to eat tonight, he supposed he’d better get a move on. 

First making sure he tucked the royal icon under his tunic, Bucky stashed his bag into one of the cubbies and then made his way back to the other house with Winter. No one really acknowledged him when he stepped in through the small doorway. Not until the man with the falcon pushed a bundle of potatoes into his chest.

“I'm Sam,” he said and then pointed to the dæmon on his shoulder. “This is Red Wing. You can peel these.”

Bucky glanced down at the bag of vegetables he now held and grimaced. He'd never done anything like that before. It sounded simple enough. Peeling potatoes didn't sound like something that required all that much knowledge. One problem still remained. 

“I… I don’t have—”

“Here.” The young brunette who’d been with Sam earlier came over to Bucky and twirled the blade of a knife over the palm of her hand before taking hold of the handle to hand it to him. “Wanda,” she said by means of introduction. “That’s Scarlet.” The crow. “The two newest Avengers.” 

That meant absolutely nothing to Bucky. He had no idea what or who the Avengers were. Only that it was what Steve and his friends apparently called themselves. A gang of some sort. How cute of them. 

Sure to thank her, Bucky took the knife from Wanda and tried to figure out what he should do next. Obviously, he knew he couldn’t peel these potatoes standing up, but sitting down meant joining Natasha and Tony and Rhodey over at the table. 

“Don't worry, their bite is worse than their bark.” 

Once again, the man with the dog dæmon snuck up behind Bucky. Startled a gasp out of him this time, too. Even Winter let out a little whine, but the yellow lab just pleasantly laughed. 

Wanda, stirring the big pot as Sam added carrots and laughed, smiled and looked up at Bucky with a shake of her head.

“Reverse that,” she told him. “That’s Clint and Hawkeye, but everyone calls her Lucky.” 

Clint gave him a goofy grin and a funny looking salute. 

“How do you do, Buck?” he said. “Not that often ol’ Steve gets all protective of some stranger. What’d you do?”

“Oh. I…” 

Words ran dry. Bucky glanced down at Winter. He saw another shrug in her gray eyes. He tried the potatoes still in his arms, but they were even less helpful than Winter. At least she tried to help. The truth was, Bucky had no idea why Steve had helped him. Or why he hadn’t taken the money he had to’ve known he carried with him. His friends already commented on his jewelry yet Steve—even if he contemplated it—never made one move to take any of Bucky’s things. 

“We’re gonna have to figure out the way Steve’s mind works later,” Sam said. “I need those potatoes.” 

“Right, right.” Clint gave him a jab to the arm. “Get on that, kid.” 

Bucky nodded and went, cautiously, to the table. Afraid he might disturb someone if he tried to pull the bench even slightly, he did what he could to just squeeze his way between it and the table so that he could sit. No one stopped talking to help him, but Natasha did push back to make it easier for him. 

The first potato Bucky pulled out had a strange, oblong shape and a thin dusting of dirt. Bucky made a face at it. Disgusting. The least they could've done was washed them off first. 

He looked around. No one was paying any particular attention to him save for Winter who gave him quite the warning look.

“Don't,” she mumbled quietly. “You'll insult them.”

“But it's _filthy_ ,” he replied and did what he could to discreetly wipe the dirt off with his hand. “There. Better.”

Winter sighed and hung her head. Bucky shrugged. Now that he'd gotten the potato clean, he could move on to peeling it. He held it tightly in his hand and tried to run the blade across the width of it. 

The second he did, the blade caught and jerked, and instead of peeling anything, sliced right into his finger. Bucky gasped and let go of everything as pain and shock radiated up his hand. Winter flew to her feet with a yelp. And yet nothing hit the table. The blade only grazed him. A cut formed, a few drops of blood blossoming, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Because two hands locked around his wrists and kept them still. Steve's hands. Big. Warm. Protective. 

“No, no,” he said, softly. “Not that way, you'll hurt yourself.”

“Obviously,” Bucky grumbled and rolled his finger in. “I'm bleeding.”

Steve snickered. “Don't be such a baby, it's just a little cut.” He ripped a piece of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and wrapped it around Bucky’s finger. “There. All better. Here, try it this way.”

Hands at Bucky’s waist, Steve made him turn so that he straddled the bench, then sat down right behind him. He flipped the potato in Bucky’s hand. This time, when Bucky slid the blade across the skin with Steve's guiding hand, he peeled down the length of it. 

A long, brown peel fell to the ground and, though such a little thing, Bucky felt both proud and amused by it. He looked back at Steve who chuckled like he found something humorous about the Bucky’s reaction. Bucky glowered when Steve pat his head.

“There you go,” he said. “Now, don't hurt yourself.”

Steve left Bucky to it then and, somehow, Bucky eventually ended up with three peeled potatoes. By that time, his elbow strained, his wrist shook, it took great effort just to keep going. That was exhausting. It shouldn’t’ve been, but Bucky didn’t want to do another thing all night long. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Not when Rhodey, who was slicing mushrooms, told him the potatoes needed to be chopped. 

Almost whining out loud, Bucky glared at the potatoes. They refused to cut themselves up, leaving the job for Bucky to do himself. 

“What’s the matter, rich boy?” Tony asked. “Too much work for you?”

Natasha scoffed. “Remind me again where you were before you joined us?” 

“Yeah, and if you recall, the Starks were stripped of their title and I _just_ escaped a walk to the gallows by slipping out of the dungeons.” 

“And if _you_ recall—”

“All right, all right.” Steve ended whatever quarrel they might’ve had before it could even begin. “We all know how everyone got here.”

Well, Bucky didn’t, but he did know that the Starks hailed from nobility. He’d never heard that they’d been stripped of that title though. Unless it was just Tony and his immediate family. That happened sometimes. Bucky wondered what they’d done as he chopped up the potatoes. 

Not long later, everyone sat around the table with bowls full of venison stew and clay cups of water. While it wasn’t the best meal Bucky’d ever eaten, for a meal prepared over a wood burning stove in a treehouse, he really couldn’t complain The meat was juicy. The stew just right. The vegetables nice and tender. Plus, he had a hand in making it. Always a reason to smile over that. 

Conversations went on as they all ate, most of which Bucky didn’t pay attention to. He didn’t need to listen to the details of some peddler that would be traveling their way in the next few weeks who they probably planned on robbing. Poor man. With any luck, this Justin Hammer character would know how and be ready to defend himself against the likes of these petty thieves who preferred to take instead of working and earning for themselves.

Chin in his hand, Bucky sighed as he worked his way through his stew, sitting at the corner of the table and keeping to himself. He tossed a few pieces of meat to Winter, who stayed full along with him but did enjoy the taste anyway

“Stop sulking,” she murmured. “Their generosity can’t be stretched _that_ far if you keep pushing it.”

“What generosity?” Bucky muttered. “As far as they’re concerned I’m of noble blood and they’ve hardly given me private quarters, made me chop vegetables, and practically threatened to _rob_ me.”

“It could always be worse.”

“How?”

“We could be down _there_ ,” she reminded him. “Empty belly. Parched throat. Aching back. You should be thankful.”

Bucky conceded that with a slight nod and a twist of his lips. While she did make a decent point, he was used to a certain way of doing things. A snap of the fingers and he got what he wanted. He didn’t have to work. He _shouldn’t_ have to work. Just one day out in it and the world had gone topsy-turvy on him. 

“Have we remembered to give our thanks to our dear Prince James?”

Head shooting up, Bucky snapped his gaze right over to Rhodey as soon as he said that and held back a surprised grin. Perhaps these people had some culture after all. Giving thanks to the royal family for their bounty was only proper and good manners. At banquets and dinners held in his honor, people didn’t even start eating until Bucky started first. 

Not here. Here, they hadn’t even said their graces to their prince and mentioned it only as an afterthought. Still, it’d been brought up. Better than nothing, he supposed. 

Only instead of giving any sort of thanks, or showing any respect to the crown at all, they scoffed and laughed. They scoffed and laughed as though the very notion of showing thanks and respect to their prince utterly repulsed them. 

“We did steal from him,” Natasha agreed. “Broke some pretty serious laws.”

Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t realize they’d broken any laws to obtain the food for this meal. He just assumed they’d hunted the deer and grew the vegetables themselves. They really were worse than he imagined. 

“Oh, of course,” Steve said, gruff and displeased. A story behind his irritation. He jabbed the prongs of his fork into a piece of meat and held it up. “To Prince James. May he feel the pricks of our forks as we stab them into _his_ precious meats.” 

With hearty laughs and ready agreements, they all lifted their cups to Steve's blessing. Bucky certainly felt a prick all right. Right in the gut. He almost doubled over with shock. 

Dismay had the blood draining from his face. He thought he might be ill right then and there. Steve, though he knew little about the man, had made such an awful toast in Bucky’s name. It felt wrong, those words, coming from his mouth. They didn't belong to Steve. Yet he had said them. Harsh and vicious. Each of them slicing into Bucky like the tip of a razor-sharp dagger. And not one person here raised a hand in protest. In fact, they went on with their insults.

_A good for nothin' thief. Incredible as he is inept. That crown keeps on slippin’ down that pointed head of his._

A horrible realization dawned on Bucky as he sat there trying to drown out all the things they were saying, laughing, and even singing about him. They all hated him. For reasons Bucky didn’t know, but they hated him. With gusto. 

“How ‘bout it, rich boy,” Tony said from the other side and across the table. “I bet you have venison all the time, huh?”

Curious eyes turned to him, waiting for the answer. Even Steve, whose eyebrows lifted as though just as interested in what Bucky had to say. 

“Uh.” Bucky considered just lying, wondered if he could do it well enough to get away with it, and decided it the truth would be better than getting caught. “I, well, um… yeah. We do. Occasionally.”

The snickers and scoffs and eyerolls that followed his answer made Bucky cringe. They weren’t out of any amusement and the sarcasm was thick and heavy. 

“Figures,” Wanda muttered. “They get to eat whatever they want and it’s illegal for us to even hunt. Maybe if my brother wasn’t arrested for hunting he’d still be alive.” 

Scarlet, who up until now remained mostly out of sight, flew down to the table and landed right in front of Wanda. He hopped up close enough that Wanda didn’t even need to lean in to hear when he whispered something to her. Whatever it was made her nod and smile and stroke two fingers under his beak.

“Illegal?” 

Bucky didn’t quite _mean_ to ask, in fact, he hadn’t even realized he’d said it aloud until all those eyes fell on him again. His face burned. Those weren’t looks of curiosity anymore. 

“Yes,” Sam said. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“Know what?” Bucky asked. “I don’t understand.”

“That it’s illegal,” Natasha explained with Widow hanging from a silky web that dangled from her fingers, “to hunt in the woods.”

“Only noble and royal hunting parties,” Clint said. “All the meat here we stole from the prince himself.” 

“No, no, wait.” Bucky shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. Who told you that you couldn’t hunt in the woods?”

Everyone stared at him again. Stared at him as though the answer to his question was as plain as the nose on his face. Tony chuckled. 

“Gee, Steve, I’m beginning to see why you brought this kid back with you.” 

“He kinda grows on you,” Rhodey added, “doesn’t he?”

Over at the head of the table, Steve smirked and winked at Bucky. Bucky had a feeling these comments were teasing and playful. Harmless. But he still didn’t understand. Steve, smirk still playing on his mouth, sighed. 

“Prince James, Bucky,” he told him as though he was a simple child. “Your good old, Prince James is the one who outlawed hunting.” 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky almost laughed at the absurdity. “I did—” Winter stepped on his foot. “I— I mean…He. He did what?”

“Learn something new every day,” Steve said, “don’t you?”

He reached across the table to take other empty bowls. Others started passing them down to him and rising off the bench, clearly starting their clean up process. Bucky had no idea they—or anyone, really—cleaned up properly, and, frankly, he didn’t care about that. Not now, especially. 

“No, wait!” His voice raised. An edge crept into his words. Years of being used to getting what he wanted. “Just wait a second!” 

Whether how he said it or the shock of it, Bucky’s words did make them stop. Everyone stopped. Some of them had dinner utensils in their hands. Others were stacking cups. All of them stopped what they were doing to give him their attention. 

“What—” Bucky didn’t even know how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous. “When did… h-how long ago did Prince James pass this law?” 

“Uh, let’s see,” Steve said. “That one was, maybe, six years ago?”

Steve nodded at the rest of them as if seeking agreement with his estimate. They all shrugged and nodded along with him. 

Six years ago. For six years now, no one had been allowed to hunt for meat, and for some reason, they all thought that Bucky had made that a law. It made no sense. 

“I don’t understand,” Bucky said. “Why do you think Prince James is responsible for that?”

Natasha chuckled. “Other than the fact that he’s _The Prince_?”

“How about the fact that that Sheriff and Head Guard of his made the announcement,” Sam added. “Plastered the Royal Decree all over the place.”

“Not to mention the rest of the royal guards,” Wanda went on, “making arrests in his name for anyone they _do_ catch hunting.” 

Bucky couldn’t understand any of this. The dungeon tower, as far as he knew, was empty. The gallows hadn’t been used in years. Not once since he’d been born. Tony not being brought to them because he escaped the dungeons had to be an outrageous lie. Laws being passed while his uncle held the title of regent meant they’d be passed in _his_ name, not Bucky’s. And his uncle wouldn’t pass such ridiculous laws. They were utter nonsense. All of this had to be some wild fabrication thought up by a pack of horrible thieves to sully Bucky’s name. 

“And what about his uncle?” Bucky challenged. He’d catch them in their lies. “Wouldn’t _he_ do something about it?”

“His uncle?” Steve questioned. “You mean the Regent?”

Folding his arms over his chest, Bucky first stole a glance at Winter before confirming that. Unfortunately, she didn’t look nearly as confident as he felt. 

“I…” He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. “Yes?” 

“The Regent left,” Steve answered. “Years ago.”

“What? What do you _mean_ he left?”

“The Prince had him removed when he was thirteen,” Tony said. “Now it’s just him and the council who lets him do whatever he wants so they can keep their butts on their cushioned seats.” 

“Might be tough to hear, kid,” Rhodey said. “I get it. I swore an oath to the King’s Guard under King George only to end up serving under that oaf, Rumlow. I defected two months later. I had to. I imagine it must feel something like this. Finding out the person you serve isn’t what you thought.”

Only that’s not what this was at all. He’d just found out that everyone thought he was a monster. He couldn’t even prove them wrong. For one, he had no idea if they were telling the truth. Bucky didn’t even serve anyone. If there was truth to any of this, he was the one taking the blame. 

Everyone thought his uncle was gone. Everyone thought he’d made some ridiculous law about not hunting, or so they claimed. Everyone hated _him_.

“Hey.” Someone nudged his back. Natasha. “You don’t get to not help clean up. C’mon. Off your butt.”

Helping this time meant sticking his hands into a barrel of dirty water. To be fair, he was actually putting the bowls into the water to rinse them off, but almost each and every time he did, his fingers and hands touched the water and when they did, he shuddered and wanted to be ill. It was disgusting. 

At least it was better than what Steve was doing, who took the bowls from Bucky after he rinsed them. Sleeves pushed all the way up to his elbows, he dunked the bowls right into the next barrel and scrubbed the bowls cleaned before handing them off to Natasha to dry them. 

Once they were done—table cleared, dishes cleaned and dried and put away—Steve and his friends didn’t appear in any hurry to be off to bed. Bucky couldn’t tell what time it was. His body wanted to just collapse into a big, fluffy bed—that hammock would just have to do—but the rest of them went back to doing things as though it was midday. 

Tony and his dæmon—Dumi, as Bucky learned his name was—started tinkering with that little wooden box again. At the table with him, Rhodey, Natasha, and Sam sat down with a pack of cards. Though, instead of reaching for one of Count von Doom’s bags of gold like Bucky expected, Sam started dealing out the cards as they started wagering on daily chores. The gold, which had gone from the table to a shelf, still hadn’t been touched. Clint was over with Wanda, teaching her, Bucky thought, some sort of secret language with their hands. The only one off by himself was Steve. He sat in a chair with Captain laying just next to him and a notebook in his lap. A pencil moving quickly across the page. 

As Bucky came over, he realized right away that Steve wasn’t writing something, he was drawing. The second he realized this, Captain picked her head up and Steve lifted the notebook away and out of Bucky’s view. He couldn’t see the picture Steve’d been trying to draw. 

“We have books,” he said and pointed with the pencil to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. “Or, if you want, you can just go. I’ll get you up in the morning.” 

Without laying the book flat on his lap again, Steve went back to drawing. Made sure that Bucky couldn’t see whatever it was he was working on. 

“Or,” Bucky replied. Short and curt. If they were going to hate him for no real reason, he might as well give them one, “you could show me where I can go and freshen up.” 

But Steve didn’t look all that phased by Bucky’s discourteous manner. He didn’t even stop in his doodling. 

“It’s the middle of the night. We’re in the middle of the woods,” Steve said. “What makes you think there’s a place for that?”

There was a reason for it. When Bucky looked at everyone else there, not any of them had a speck of dirt on them. Well, maybe they weren’t as clean as they’d be if they didn’t live out in the woods, but they also didn’t _look_ like they lived out in the woods. 

“Only because no one else here is filthy.” 

“Well, maybe that’s because they’re not savages.” 

Huffing, Bucky stood there with his arms crossed. He didn’t budge. Only enough to get into Steve’s light. They lasted like that for several minutes. 

“How long do you think they’ll do this?” Bucky heard Winter ask. 

“Oh, Steve is exceptionally stubborn,” Captain told her. Steve rolled his eyes but still didn’t look up. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he went all night. Your human?”

Winter snickered. “A brat through and through. But he is going through a little something. He’s a good kid.”

When she said that, Steve sighed. He snapped the book closed and dropped it on his lap with a disgruntled shake of his head before flicking his gaze back up to Bucky. 

“Fine,” he grunted and stood up. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

A proud smile pulled up on Bucky’s mouth. He was pretty certain Winter’s comment had guilted Steve more than he had worn him down, but regardless, Steve had still given in first. Bucky’d won. 

Where Bucky expected to end up was just another hut with barrels of fresh water. Instead, Steve led him down the winding bridges and to a platform with steam rising all above it. Bucky glanced over the ledge to see they were standing just above a hot spring. Clever. 

Without thinking much about it, Bucky lifted his wrist, palm up. To Steve. It only occurred to him what he did after he did it. Presenting himself to be serviced for such basic necessities was just commonplace. Every day, for as long as he could remember, someone else unlaced his clothes for him. Dressed him. Groomed him. 

But this wasn’t the palace. And Steve, who looked at Bucky’s sleeve as though offended by its very presence, was hardly one of his servants. 

Off to the side, somewhere outside this awkward bubble Bucky had unintentionally thrown up around him and Steve, Winter hung her head while Captain let out a soft chuckle. 

Bucky was just about to lower his arm and offer an apology—this had truly been just an honest mistake, a lapse of judgment, a misunderstanding—but Steve grit his teeth and mumbled something to the treetops as he brought his hands to the ties of Bucky’s sleeve. 

“Just one night,” he grumbled, easily loosening the thin lace to open the top of Bucky’s tunic. “Just gotta get through one night of this.” 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. There were two things he liked about this odd relationship forming between the two of them. First, he was quite fond of finding ways of being able to boss Steve, an otherwise hard-headed, stubborn man, around. Second, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to truly feel about this, he felt something exciting whenever Steve paid attention to him—even if that attention meant Steve being unapologetically stern or forceful. 

No one had ever spoken to him the way Steve did. Not even Rumlow, but that was different. Rumlow hated him. Bucky never really knew why, but he did. As far as he could tell, Steve didn’t. Prince James, yes. Bucky, no. He didn’t particularly _like_ him, but Bucky hadn’t given him much reason to. 

“Turn around,” Steve ordered. _Ordered_. A chill swept up Bucky’s spine as he did what Steve wanted so that Steve could take off his outer shirt. He’d finished unlacing his sleeves and collars almost as fast as his servants. He must’ve done it before. “There. I trust you can handle the rest yourself?”

“Yes,” Bucky murmured. “I’ve got it.”

“Great. Well, if that’s all, just go back the way we came when you’re finished.”

Bucky almost requested that he stay there with him. Just for the hell of it. But he figured he’d done enough to bother Steve for the day and just nodded. 

“Okay. Um… thank you, Steve.”

Steve paused and quirked an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you really just said thank you to me.” He chuckled when Bucky glowered. “You’re welcome, Bucky.” 

This time, when Steve laughed, Bucky let out a little laugh of his own as he continued to undress. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sleeping in a hammock, Bucky learned come morning, was not nearly as comfortable as a bed. Oh, it was amazing compared to the ground. His back wasn’t nearly as sore and he could move his neck all the way around again. Still, it’d be nice to sleep in a bed. 

“Are we just going to keep pretending last night didn’t happen?” 

Bucky kept lacing up his boots. He knew what Winter meant. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He swirled to his feet. Steve had already been in to wake him up, bringing a water pitcher and sponge. Same as last night, if Bucky didn’t hurry to help, he’d get no breakfast. Not that he was in a rush to get over there to chop or peel or boil something. That didn’t mean he wanted to stay here and address the topic Winter had been trying to bring up since waking. 

“Yes,” she nearly growled and got in front of him, “you do.”

Bucky sighed. “Okay, okay. What about it?”

“About what they said last night. About… _Prince James_.” 

Eyes trained on the floor of the hut, the glands in his throat swelled. He didn’t want to think about it. It hurt when he did. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t understand it.” 

“Bucky,” Winter murmured. “What if… what if your uncle—”

“ _No._ ” Every muscle in his body went tight in protest. “That’s impossible. He wouldn’t.”

Winter sat in front of him. Looked up with a pair of unhappy but concerned eyes. She didn’t like this any more than he did. 

“I know you trust him, Bucky. But you have to consider the possibility that he’s the one behind these outrageous laws being made in your name. He _is_ your regent. He has the power to do it.” 

No. There had to be some other explanation for it. His uncle was the one who’d come to take care of him. He’d made so many sacrifices just to keep Bucky living in the lap of luxury. To make sure he was safe. To see to it that he’d make a proper king one day. Sure, they butted heads every now and then, but that didn’t mean he was capable an act so horrible as this. 

“It can’t be him,” Bucky insisted. “Rumlow, maybe. Or even Zemo. He’s out in the villages often enough.”

“How would either of them get the royal stamp? Bucky—”

“Enough of this.” Bucky brushed by her. “I’ll admit that something strange is going on, but we’ll simply tell my uncle when we get back and he’ll figure it out. That’s all.” 

Though she didn’t respond, Bucky could feel the disapproval. He hated it. It wasn’t often they really fought, but when they did it always left a pit in his stomach. Even now, over a little spat, Bucky didn’t feel right. 

They didn’t speak as they made their way to the main hut. Bucky wished he could just reach down and scratch between her ears. Or have her nuzzle against him. Neither of them did anything. 

“Hey, there they are,” Tony announced as they stepped into the room with everyone. “Just in time.” 

“Ah, mornin’ sleepy head,” Sam greeted. “Wanda’s got somethin’ for you to do.” 

Which happened to be once again peeling and chopping potatoes. In Wanda’s words _since you were so good at it yesterday, figured you could do it again_. He was better at it today than he was yesterday, even though Rhodey made him chop them much smaller this time. 

When Steve walked by, he reminded him to watch his fingers. Natasha had even been kind enough to show him a better, faster way of getting it done. 

“Chop the stacks together,” she said. “That way you’ll get through each potato faster.” 

Once again, Clint set the table with bowls and spoons. Turned out Bucky had chopped potatoes for porridge this time. Runny porridge, but it was warm and filling just the same. He did what he could not look too disgruntled by the way it cooked. Not only did he not want to draw attention to himself, Bucky hated the idea of making Winter angrier with him. 

By the time they finished, just like last night, everyone had their little jobs to get done. Today, Bucky got the joy of drying the bowls after Steve cleaned them. 

“Do you need to _freshen_ up again,” Steve questioned when he handed the last bowl over. “Or are you ready to go?” 

“No, no.” Bucky inspected his hands. They were clean enough. “I’m ready.”

“All right, good.”

For the first time since yesterday, Steve grabbed the bags of gold he stole. Bucky nearly rolled his eyes. Of course. He’d take the money that wasn’t his and spend it in town. No wonder he was headed that way. 

Noticing Steve getting the gold down, the rest of the Avengers began herding around him. Bucky guessed this was the time they started splitting up their pot. It was bound to happen sooner or later. 

“‘Kay,” Steve started. “Clint, you Tasha and Wanda are going to the farms, yes?”

“That’s right,” Clint answered. “Should just be a few days.”

“Take your time,” Steve said as he handed one bag over to them. “Give Laura and the kids my best.” He turned his attention to Tony, Rhodey, and Sam. “You’re headed to the universities? To see Pepper, Carol, and Maria?”

He gave them the second bag and kept the last for himself. Bucky would call it greed if he hadn’t done all the work to get all of them. As the others made their preparations for whatever trips they were taking, all Bucky did—all he could do, really—was stand there. Waiting. 

This was it. He’d finally be taken to the village. It probably also meant that his time away from the palace would shortly be coming to an end, but he didn’t want to think about that. Right now, Bucky just allowed himself to be excited about the freedom he’d taken by stepping through those hidden gates. 

The nudge at Bucky’s hip got his attention. Winter sat right next to him. So close, her shoulder brushed against his waist. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. He just stroked a hand over her fur as a sense of relief passed over him. They’d be headed to the village together. Whether they agreed about last night’s discussion or not didn’t matter.

Something caught Winter’s attention. Bucky followed it and saw Captain coming closer. Steve walked just a few paces behind her. Just before they would’ve reached them, Sam took hold of his arm.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you, man?” he asked. “I can. You know I can.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sam,” Steve told him. “You haven’t seen Maria in over a month.”

“But do you really think it’s a good idea to head into the village a day after robbing Doom _alone_?”

“No.” Steve shook his head and flung on a hooded cloak. “But I won’t _be_ alone.”

Sam made a face at him and flicked a quick glance over to where Bucky stood. His lips twisted as though Steve’s suggestion that Bucky was who counted as making him _not alone_ was ludacris. Bucky thought maybe he should take that as an insult, but Sam may’ve also had a point. 

It wasn’t like Bucky knew anything about these woods. He knew nothing about where they were headed or even the village itself. As much as he hated to admit it, Sam was probably right. 

Still, Steve winked and probably pretended as though Bucky hadn’t been able to hear every word that was just said. He waved him and Winter over, and asked half-mockingly, half-jokingly if they needed to freshen up before they went anywhere. Too excited to get out of here and to the village, Bucky couldn’t even muster up a proper quip to give him back and just told him that they were fine. 

Shrugging, Steve started packing a small satchel for himself—which, of course, meant stuffing the bag of gold in it—and told Bucky to grab his things. Before he could be told to do anything else, Bucky turned on his heels to do just that.

“Hurry,” he muttered to Winter, “or else they’ll have us trimming the shrubbery.” 

“You just can’t show your gratitude, can you?”

But he could hear the smile in her voice. The same that fixed itself upon his face and made Steve’s eyes roll minutes later when he came to fetch them both so they could leave. 

They’ve walked mostly in silence save for a few questions made by Bucky. Steve’s already told him it will take about another half a day to reach the village but assured him that he’s also packed food enough for them both to keep them satisfied for the journey. Which was good, considering Bucky hadn’t even thought of that. 

Both Winter and Captain walked side by side a few paces ahead. They, unlike their humans, did not remain silent. Bucky, though he didn’t mind exactly, couldn’t claim he didn’t feel jealous. He wasn’t used to having to share Winter’s attention. 

For a while, Bucky just kicked rocks in the dirt, trying to kick the same one ahead of him for as long as he could. Every now and then, Steve actually joined him, kicking a rock that skittered too far away back over to him. Bucky grinned. 

“So,” Bucky said after the silence became too much for him. “You guys… really hate Prince James, huh?”

Steve snickered. Not from humor or even the idea of a lighthearted debate, but from somewhere cold and dark inside of him. A shudder ran through Bucky. 

“He hurt a lot of us,” he answered. “Ripped some of our lives apart.”

The choice of topics hadn’t been the wisest, but now that Bucky had picked it, he felt compelled to continue. Something happened in _his_ kingdom and he needed to figure out what. Unfortunately, he had to try talking around the rock that formed in his throat. 

“But what if…” He swallowed roughly. “What if it’s _not_ the prince?”

“What?” Steve scoffed. “Look, I know he’s probably your friend and all, but trust us when we say, he’s done a number on this kingdom.”

“And… you remember it _before_?” Bucky asked. “When King George and Queen Winifred ruled?” 

“Ye-well, a little.” Steve scooped up a long stick and used it like a hiking cane. “I was ten when the fire happened. But I remember when the people were happy.”

“Are they…” Bucky hesitated. “ _Not_ happy now?”

Snapping the wood in half and tossing the pieces back into the forest, Steve closed his eyes and shook his head with a sigh before giving Bucky a very meaningful look. 

“It’s kinda hard to be happy when you’re being taxed out the nose and have eviction notices hanging over your heads and your friends and family are being hauled off to jail all the time.” 

“Well,” Bucky tried. “There’s got to be a good reason for all this. Why don't they just pay their taxes?”

“They _can't_ , Bucky. The taxes go _up_ all the time.”

“But—"

“Look,” Steve interrupted. “I get it if the Prince is a friend of yours or if you feel the need to protect his honor in the name of duty to country or something.” He sighed and scowled. “I might understand it better than you think. But the truth is, ever since Prince James took the throne, we've had to slave away under his good-for-nothing rule.”

Good for nothing. Whatever was going on here made Steve think he was good for nothing. Bucky didn't know why but that cut right through his flesh and bone. It hurt, having this common criminal think so lowly of him. Bucky kicked another rock and kept up with him.

“But you remember King George?” he asked. “And Queen Winifred?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled. Fondly, Bucky thought. “Their rule, anyway. I didn’t exactly know them personally.” 

“No, how could you,” Bucky agreed. “What with your, lineage and all.” 

That smile tightened and, as though listening while able to maintain her own conversation, Captain glanced over her shoulder to catch his eyes. Like they were in on some private joke Bucky was miles away from being allowed inside of. 

“That’s right.” Steve looked at him with that crooked grin. “Because of my _lineage_.”

“Did I—” Bucky, watching Steve and not where he walked, almost tripped. “Did I say something wrong?”

Steve didn’t answer that. Instead, he said, “The King was someone who made people proud to serve under. Fair. Just. He didn’t _use_ his power just because he could. He wanted his people to prosper and be happy. He was the type of man who knew it was better to be loved than to be feared. King George was a good man.”

Emotions gathered right in the middle of Bucky’s throat. It hurt to swallow. No one had ever said much about his father before let alone something like that. For some reason, Steve thinking so highly of him, made all the difference in the world. 

“And…” Nothing had cleared out of his throat yet and Bucky found it hard to talk. “The Queen?”

A smile. Then, “Everyone loved Queen Winifred. There was nothing _not_ to love. She was so… _kind hearted_. During the Winter’s Eve Festival, she’d go around to every booth set up in the courtyard and, I swear, she knew everyone’s name—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted. “The courtyard? You mean… on the castle grounds?”

“Yes, Bucky. Believe it or not, the castle gates _used_ to be opened all the time even to riffraff like me.” He threw a funny look at Bucky before continuing. “People weren’t scared all the time when they ruled. There’s a dark cloud that hangs over everyone now. There used to be a sense of family. Of unity. If we had to fight, we knew what we’d be defending. Our home. Our kingdom.” Steve paused to chuckle. “I remember one time when the King and Queen came into town and…”

Bucky missed the next several of Steve’s words. The world washed away in one frozen, horrible moment. All sight and sound became obstructed by far-off words. Words said to him at another place. In another time. They clashed so strongly with what Steve said, that Bucky couldn’t even breathe. 

_You know a king would never sully himself by stepping onto common ground, so why do you think a prince should?_

His uncle had said those very words to him not one month ago. He told Bucky that royalty never went to common grounds. Had been telling Bucky that his whole life. Such things were beneath him. A prince never sullied himself with matters outside nobility. People who counted. 

That’s why he had a council. The lords and ladies of the lands always reported back to them. They reported back to Bucky. Or, well, at the moment, the Regent. Bucky’s uncle. Who told him the villages and villagers that were beneath him. 

“Hey.” Something caught his gaze. Bucky couldn’t be sure what. “Are you okay? Bucky? What… what’s happening to him? Is he okay?”

The ground wobbled under Bucky’s feet as he looked back up and found Steve’s eyes. They glistened with concern. Bucky looked down at Winter. He didn’t need to explain to her. 

“They really went into the village?” Bucky whispered. “They visited?” 

Steve backed away a little. Surprised, probably, by the question. 

“The King and Queen? Yes.” He nodded. “About once a month. The whole family did.” 

“The whole…” 

“Bucky!” 

Three different voices called his name. They didn’t really need to sound that panicked. Yes, he knelt down to the ground, but he hadn’t fainted. He wasn’t that fragile; he _wasn’t_. 

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Winter murmured. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Bucky looked up at her. “You were right. You were _right_ , Winter.” 

“Maybe there’s a good reason,” she offers. “Like you said.”

“And if there isn’t? What then?”

To that, she had no real answer. Bucky looked over at Steve again, who had kindly kept away with Captain as to not overhear. 

“The whole family came? Prince and Princess, too?” 

“Yes.”

A picture formed in Bucky’s head. A memory. Maybe, maybe not. He didn’t even know if it was real. His father, sitting up tall and proud, beard upon his face and a smile on his mouth as Bucky wouldn’t sit still in the coach next to him. Rebecca bouncing on their mother’s knee. Mother with her hair tied back in a loose braid as she laughed and told Bucky to behave.

An image ripped away by flames and smoke and lies. 

“Bucky?” Steve asked. “Are you all right? Maybe we should stop and have something to eat.” He plucked some berries from his pocket. “Here.”

Bucky took them but did nothing with the berries until Winter nudged his hand. He tossed them into his mouth and ignored all of Steve’s worried questions he threw at him. 

“Take me to the village,” Bucky told him once he finished all the berries. “I want to go.” 

“I… are you sure you don’t want to rest?” Steve asked. “You look a little shaken.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky stood and squared his shoulders, foolish pride pushing him forward. “Don’t tell me—”

“All right, all right.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Calm down, I was only checking, I’ll take you to the village, sheesh.” 

Steve didn’t say more than that. He simply stood back up and started walking again, leaving it to Winter to help Bucky to his feet again. She asked quietly if he was okay. This wasn’t the place to talk. They couldn’t risk getting caught, not with how much they were hated. Falsely, but hated nonetheless. 

Or, perhaps, not falsely. He had, after all, been living behind a gilded wall of lies, but he’d done nothing to see behind them. He’d followed blindly. This was his kingdom. And he’d see to it that it was made right once more.

***

“Well.” Steve waved his hand out in front of him. “Here we are. Your village. Is it everything you expected it to be?”

Everything. Everything and more. Bucky couldn’t breathe; the excitement was just too much. There was so much to look at and they hadn’t even really gotten to it yet. All Bucky could see were rooftops and But there were so many of them. And as they got closer he could see people. Lots of them. Everywhere he looked they were all doing something. 

The butcher cut up sides of meat while his apprentice took orders from the crowd shouting them at her. Someone haggled over the price of a dozen eggs. Over at the baker’s, she shouted for more pastries. Linens were being washed in the fountain out in the center of the market square. 

Those who weren’t working were busy pushing through the crowds, trying to buy, shouting prices they deemed acceptable for items they wanted to be purchased. A horse-drawn trolley passed by with clanking pots and pans swinging on the outside. The driver waved to people as he steered by. 

Bucky couldn’t imagine what Steve had been talking about. No one looked miserable. They all greeted each other, friendly exchanges of hello—some of them familiar nods of everyday passersby—as they spotted one another. Children ran around, playing various games. Jacks in the dirt. Tag around the market. Stickball. Some of them even pretended to joust. 

“Okay, so.” Steve clapping him on the back tore his attention away from everything going on. “I’ve done what I said I’d do. Good luck to you, Bucky. Winter.”

Both Winter and Captain were still engrossed in conversation, but the sound of her name catches Winter’s attention. She glanced from Steve back to Captain and then trotted over to Bucky’s side. 

“Wait…”

It came out softly. Barely even at all, and when Steve had gotten several feet away. Bucky was surprised that he’d been heard at all. Steve even stopped and everything. Looked over his shoulder to give Bucky his attention again. 

“Um.” Bucky looked down at Winter. Saw the question in her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“To see May Parker,” he said. “The seamstress.” 

“Why?”

Steve turned all the way around. “What does it matter?” 

“Because maybe it’d be best if you showed us the best place to stay in town. It’s only right as our escort.” 

“As your..” Steve shook his head. “When did _that_ happen?” 

“When you decided to help in the first place.” 

Rolling his eyes, Steve grumbled something about beginning to regret that decision, but Bucky could already see the defeat in Steve’s eyes.

“Come on,” he grumbled. “We’ll go to see the Parkers and then I’ll take you to Peggy’s.”

“Peggy’s?”

“The Tavern. She’ll have a room for you.”

Bucky perked up. “With a bed?” 

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve answered. “With a bed.” 

That right there, would be worth making stops at every place in this entire village along the way. But it turned out, getting to just that one spot would take just a lot longer than making tons of stops. Most everyone greeted Steve along their way. By name, at that. Him and Captain. Happy and excited. 

Some of them even came over and embraced Steve. Big, tight hugs full of happiness and care. Nearly everyone who spotted him hurried over as though Steve was the sun bursting through their hurricane. No one paid any attention to Bucky or Winter. Better that way. No questions needed to be asked about who he was or what he was doing there or why he was with Steve. 

At first, watching everyone approach Steve to say hello was rather cute. Unlike Steve with the Avengers—who knew how to lead and take control, a person defaulted to as easy as breathing—Steve with the villagers blushed and stumbled over words and tucked in his smiles as though bashful and shy. A few people tried to give him things, thing Steve adamantly denied receiving.

“No, no,” he’d say. “Please, I can’t take this.”

“Steve, please, take it,” said the pretty girl with just a yellow rose she was offering that Steve refused to take. Her butterfly dæmon sat on the blossom. “It’s the least we can do. Please.” 

“But, Michelle.” Steve gently placed his hands over hers and lowered the flower. “You’re selling the flowers to help earn money to rebuild the schoolhouse ever since…” He didn’t finish that. “I don’t need—”

“You _never_ need. You’ll find some use for it instead of keeping it I bet, anyway. Just take it.” 

She shoved it into Steve’s hand and flashed a saucy grin before walked away again, her butterfly giggling and trailing behind. Steve sighed. Brought the rose to his nose before waving it in a farewell.

“Thank you, MJ,” he called after her.

Raising her arm up in the air, she lifted a finger in an obscene gesture that had Bucky gasping and Steve chuckling as though it was just what he expected from her. 

So many of the interactions went like that. They’d walk a little bit, someone would stop them to talk to Steve. To thank him. To talk to him. To hug him. To try to give him something. Sometimes they’d convince him to take it, most of the times he’d leave without taking it. 

After some time, Steve’s popularity began to skirt on Bucky’s nerves. While he was the center of everyone’s attention, Bucky just stood off to the side, waiting. Waiting and waiting until they made their way—a few feet at a time, it felt like—to this seamstress. Bucky tried to keep the grumbling to the minimum. Especially when Steve shot a smirk his way. 

During one such instance, when they’re once _again_ being held up, and Steve and Captain were engrossed in some conversation that Bucky and Winter were not privy to, that something pasted to the side of a store caught his eye. Curious, and ignoring Winter’s whispers as to where he was going, Bucky went over for a closer look. And was shocked at what he saw. 

Bucky ripped it off the wall and brought it back over to Winter. Showed it to her while looking at Steve. 

“Look at this,” he mumbled. “Maybe _he’s_ the liar.”

“Easy, Bucky,” Winter whispered. “You’ve been through a lot in the past two days.” 

She was right, and Bucky knew that, but it didn’t stop him from marching right over to Steve the second he was alone. 

“Is this _you_?” he asked.

Steve took the flyer from Bucky’s hand. Looked at the sloppy sketch drawn on it that somewhat resembled him and the words _Steve Rogers: Wanted for Treason and Crimes against the Crown. Handsome Reward._ He shrugged and handed the poster back, seemingly unfazed by the poster. 

“Looks like it.” 

He continued on his walk towards this so-called seamstress as though Bucky hadn’t just handed him a wanted sign with his face and name that also claimed to have a very nice reward for handing him over. Things were starting to add in the favor for his uncle. 

“If everyone is suffering so much,” Bucky pointed out, “then why are you just roaming around here? Why hasn’t anyone apprehended you and turned you in for the reward?” 

The question made both Steve and Captain stop short. They gazed at him as though sickened at the suggestion. Even Winter flicked a look at him. One he just didn’t really understand. 

“What?” he asked. “What’d I say?”

“Is that what you would do?” Steve wondered. “Just turn your friend over for money?”

“Oh…” Bucky’s heart sank. He hadn’t truly thought of it that way. The Avengers were Steve’s friends. Not… “The villagers are just… but they…” 

“Are my friends,” Steve pointed out. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed the people coming up to me all morning. They’re all my friends. And I’m their friend. We look out for each other since our so-called Prince James doesn’t.” 

To that, Bucky had no answer. He wished he did. Instead of saying anything, he just continued to follow Steve at whatever pace he set.

The seamstress’ place was just a little ways past the town center. When they got there, Steve knocked on the doorframe before pushing the door open. Little bells rang as he let himself and a happy voice called from the back that she’d be with them in just a minute. 

Though the shop was a decent size, it still made for more comfort if Winter and Captain sat by the door. Which neither of them seemed to mind. Neither did Steve. He simply scratched fingers over the lioness’s head and stepped deeper into the shop. In fact, Bucky was the only one who seemed to mind. And it wasn’t that he _cared_ so much that he didn’t want Winter to pay so much attention to anyone other than him. Winter usually paid attention to him first and foremost. 

Bucky didn’t wander that much farther into the place. Just enough to get a good look around. To see the rolls of fabric draped over everything. Rolls of measuring tape—both wound up and unraveled—pins and buttons and bits of string littered all the desks. Several sized sewing mannequins lined the far wall. 

For a moment, Bucky lifted his eyes away from his surroundings and watched Steve. He wondered if maybe, while they were left unattended, he’d steal something. This would be his chance and Bucky wouldn’t put it past him. To slip some supplies into his little pouch to take back to the Avengers. Although, he does have that gold. Perhaps he’s come here intending on using it to actually buy things. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” says the woman who emerges from a back room, a little gray mouse scurrying along in front of her. “I—Steve! Oh, I didn’t expect you!”

“Hello, May.”

She’s already lit up with a warm, welcoming smile as she quickly crossed the room to hug him. This woman, Steve hugged a bit tighter than the rest. Even going so far to rub his hand up and down her back.

“May, I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I know I haven’t been by much since Ben…”

“Stop it.” May pulled away, but Bucky couldn’t miss the way her eyes got all misty. “You’re doing so damn much for everyone already. If it wasn’t for you, Everyone would be locked up in that tower.” 

Having been so caught up in seeing Steve, May Parker’s had yet to realize there was another person standing in her shop. When her gaze did finally sweep over Bucky, her eyes went wide and she shook her head as if snapped back to reality. 

“My apologies,” she said. “Were you waiting for my services? Have you been waiting long?”

Though Bucky, who had money to spend and wondered if perhaps he could get himself a quaint tailored outfit while he was here, opened his mouth to answer, it was Steve who replied for him. 

“He doesn’t need anything,” he said with a smirk at Bucky. “He’s with me. May, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is May Parker.”

Bucky lifted his hand in a wave, even opened his mouth in greeting, but got no further than that since Steve immediately pulled May back into the conversation. Something about how he was sorry it’s been so long and that Ben was a good man and how the school was the heart of the village.

May smiled and pat his hand and wiped a finger under her eye as she got up to make some tea even though she’d never asked if anyone wanted any. Steve politely indulged her and even though Bucky definitely didn’t want to stay long enough for tea, Steve shoved a cup in his hands anyway. Over by the door, Winter rolled her eyes at him. 

“So, May,” Steve said once they’d drank most of their tea. “There is another reason for my visit other than idle chit-chat. Though, I’m sure you assumed that.” 

From his pouch, Steve pulled out the bag of gold that he’d stolen from Count Von Doom and placed it on the table. The entire bag of it. May looked from Steve to the bag over and over again, her head shaking like she didn’t understand what he was doing. 

“You can’t mean the whole thing is for me, Steve,” she said. “That’s just plain ridiculous.” 

“How is it ridiculous?”

“Because you know I’m not the only one who needs—”

“You’re in need of it most, May,” Steve interrupted. “And they know that.”

It only occurred to Bucky then that when Steve put the bag of gold down on the table he meant to leave it there with her. He exchanged a glance with Winter. She didn’t appear to know that either. 

“But, Steve,” May argued. “It’s not like the Prince has run me out of house and home. Over my dead body.” 

“I know, I know. But it’s also…” Steve trailed off with a grin. “It’s his birthday. Tony and I wanted to, well, we _all_ wanted…”

Smiling, May looked as though she might have started crying if she didn’t have such tight grip on her composure. Instead, she nodded.

“He’s upstairs,” she said. “I could call him if you want.” 

“Oh, no. No, I don’t have to take the credit.”

May simply rolled her eyes. “Peter! Come down here, please!”

“Coming, May!”

Bucky couldn’t be sure how many people were up there, but he certainly didn’t expect only one kid to come charging down when it sounded like a herd of elephants the second May Parker called. And Peter Parker didn’t just take the stairs the conventional way, either. No, he first took two at a time, then jumped onto the banister, leapt from there, swung around a pole with fabric wrapped around it and landed in the middle of the room. It would have been flawless only when he went to take a step forward he tripped over a stack of yarn and into a pile of boxes. 

“Aw, man, you almost had it that time.”

Scratch that, there were two kids upstairs. They both were probably around fourteen or fifteen-years-old. Depending on whose birthday it was. Bucky assumed the one who’d just jumped all over the place was Peter. The other one hadn’t come down all the way and, instead, just leaned over the railing of the second landing. 

“Thanks, Ned.” Peter rubbed at his forehead. “Where’d I go wrong, Karen?”

A spider lowered herself down from the railing. “I’d say when you weren’t watching where you were walking and tripped all over yourself.”

“I’d say,” May interrupted, “it’s when you did it again after I’ve _repeatedly_ asked you not to do it.” 

Peter scratched the back of his head and gave her a sheepish grin. Up on the stairs, Ned hissed a laugh while clicking together two wooden sticks. Looked like he and Peter were in the middle of building something. 

“Sorry, May,” Peter said. “Uh, what’d—” She gestured to the reason she called him down. “St-Steve! Captain! H-hi!” His voice squeaked which is probably why he tried to make it deeper when he continued. “What’re you doing here?” 

Big smile on his face—one Bucky tried to ignore how cute that made him look—Steve went over to him and clapped a hand down on Peter’s shoulder. Careful, Bucky was sure, not to do it on the one that his dæmon was sitting. 

“From what I understand,” Steve said, “you have a birthday today.” 

That made Peter’s face turn so red, Bucky almost laughed. He did have to take a drink of his now cold tea to stifle himself. 

“I, um, well, I.” Peter cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s, that’s today. My birthday, I mean.” 

“I thought so.” Steve reached into the bag of gold and scooped out a handful. “Happy birthday.”

Bucky couldn’t tell how many coins were in his hand, but it was enough that Peter needed to use two hands to catch them all as Steve gave them over to him. Peter’s eyes were wide as he clutched the money against his chest. 

“This is… this is all for _me_?”

Steve nodded. “Mhm. And Tony’s sorry he couldn’t be here. It’s just that, well, he had a chance to go see Pepper. So—”

“Mr. Stark wanted to come see me for my birthday, too?”

As though the question surprised him, Steve just stared at him for a second. Then his mouth quirked up in another rather cute looking grin and he playfully punched under Peter’s jaw. 

“Course he did, kid. We all know you got heart.”

Peter huffed. “Then why does he keep treating me like a little kid? Why can’t I—”

“Cause you still got a good thing going here, Peter,” Steve said. “The Avengers are together because Prince James took _everything_ from us.” 

Bucky looked at his empty teacup. Wondered if the tea leaves meant anything. If his turning stomach meant any indication, it was nothing good. 

Steve said, “Take care of your aunt. And let her take care of you. Don’t shut her out.” 

From over by the door came a scoff. It’d been so quiet otherwise that everyone turned towards the sound. Captain sat up straight. Proud, it seemed, that she’d gotten the attention. 

“Shut up,” Steve scoffed.

“I’m just saying, is all,” she replied.

Ignoring her, Steve went back to his conversation with Peter. May and Ned joined in, and at some point, Ned called Steve the “cool” grandpa and Steve laughed and asked him what that was supposed to mean. All he got out of it was Peter groaning and burying his face in his hands. Ned didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. 

Bucky, however, was very interested in learning why Captain had scoffed after Steve asked that Peter not shut his aunt out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to this family. May’s husband, Ben, must’ve recently died. He was probably the schoolmaster. Since they look to be trying to rebuild it, maybe there was a fire. 

Oh. A fire. 

Something ached inside of Bucky’s chest. Made it hard to breathe. Had it been a bad one? Had anyone else suffered? 

A paw rested over his knee. Bucky glanced into Winter’s warm eyes. He tried to give her a grin, but his lips just wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, he rested his brow against hers. 

He couldn’t do much for this family, not at this moment, but maybe there was a little something. Just a bit of kindness. He could show that much instead of just being that person impatiently waiting for Steve to take him to the inn. 

Bucky reached into the pouch he had with him and plucked out one of his own gold coins. He slowly, awkwardly even, walked over to where they all sat and waited to be noticed. It was Steve who flicked his gaze at him. He sighed softly and nodded. 

“I supposed I’ve kept you waiting long enough,” he said. To the others, “Forgive the short visit, I—”

“No, no.” Bucky waved his hand out in front of him. “I don’t mean to make you leave. I just, um, I wanted to… uh…”

He rolls the coin between his thumb and finger, nibbling on his lip, unsure how to proceed with this. He’s never actually given a gift before. Sure, he just watched Steve give one, but that was filled with warm familiarity. Bucky’s used to being the one receiving presents and it’s always been done with formality and proper tradition. He’s not even sure if he’s once said thank you. 

Since his options have really come down to either standing there like a fool or handing the coin over, Bucky does the latter, avoiding eye contact with anyone. 

“Happy birthday.” 

For an agonizingly long few seconds, no one did anything. Bucky was sure everyone was staring at him. He could feel their eyes burning into him. But then Peter reached out and takes the coin. Gently.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much, sir.” 

A grin turned up on Bucky’s lips as he looked back at Peter. The way he just said that, so happy and genuine. It had nothing to do with Bucky being Prince. Maybe he suspected was someone in Court; it was possible. After all, that was the conclusion Steve had drawn given Bucky’s general attire and demeanor. But Peter had simply thanked him because he’d done something nice for him. And it felt good. 

“You’re…” Bucky sucked in an almost bashful smile. Well, that was something new. “You’re welcome.” 

“Peter,” Steve said, looking at Bucky with grin. “This is Bucky. My new friend.” 

That smile got impossibly wide. Friend. Steve called him his friend. Bucky had no idea such a little thing would make him light up like a sunrise. 

***

 

They didn’t stay much longer at the Parkers, but what time they did spend, Bucky was all smiles. He just couldn’t help it. Steve implied that they were friends. It was a wonderful feeling. For more than one reason, too. 

For one, Bucky was used to people being friends with him just so that they could be friends with the prince. They wanted to benefits that went along with it. Having someone just say they were friends when they didn’t know that he was really the prince was a brand new feeling. Especially when that person didn’t want anything to do with royalty at all. 

And for that person to be Steve just made Bucky feel even more special inside. Steve, Bucky had already figured out, came with a pretty strict moral compass. That compass kept point him towards always wanting to do the right thing, even if it meant breaking the law to do it. 

Now, of the two of them, Bucky had the only money between them. Steve had given all his away.

“You were never going to use that money for yourself,” Bucky asked as Steve lead the way to the tavern, “were you?”

Steve shook his head. “No.” 

“But you said—”

“I never said anything. You assumed.” 

“Is that what you always do with the money you steal?” 

“Yes.”

He didn’t comment any further on the matter. Bucky had a feeling he didn’t need to ask the following question, but he did anyway. All his other assumptions left him looking like an ass. Better he didn’t leave this one up to chance either. 

“Is it safe to assume, then,” he asked, “that you only steal from those who can afford it?”

“You’re catching on,” he said with a playful grin. “And, mind you, I _always_ _ask_ first. I’d never take from someone willing to hand out a few coins for those who need it most.” 

“Do people do that? Give for charitable reasons, I mean?”

“Sometimes.” Steve, though neither of them had been doing so, kicked a rock in the dirt towards Bucky. “You just did. That was very nice of you. What you did back there for Peter.” 

Face burning so red both Bucky and Winter ducked their heads down, Bucky sucked in a smile. 

“It wasn’t a big deal. What’s one coin?”

“To some people it can mean life or death.” 

That smile faded. “I understand his pain. My parents died, too.” 

For a moment, Steve didn’t say anything. Captain, however, stopped in her conversation with Winter and gave him a very pointed look. She even grunted. 

“What?” Steve asked his dæmon. “What’s that look for?”

“You know what it’s for,” she replied. “Don’t play dumb.” 

“I’m not.”

“You are and there’s no reason for it.” 

Steve shook his head, his jaw tightening as whatever it was he and Captain were arguing about skated across his nerves. 

“We don’t have time for this, Cap,” Steve grunted. “We have to take them to Peggy’s.” 

“We have plenty of time until we get there.” 

“We can talk about other things.” 

“You don’t have to,” she said. “You never talk about it with anyone. This is a good opening.” 

The two of them went on arguing and Bucky had to hold back a laugh. Though he’d been scolded countless times by Winter in the past, there was something amusing in listening to Captain reprimand Steve. The way Steve got all red. How blase Captain remained as she tried to convince him to talk about whatever it was she wanted Steve to talk about. 

“Okay, okay, _fine_ ,” Steve grunted. He threw a near-glare in Bucky’s direction. “My parents are dead, too.” 

Any bit of amusement vanished immediately. Bucky’s grin disappeared. His shoulders dropped. He hadn’t expected such a confession. 

“Oh.” He glanced at the ground. “Oh, I… I’m sorry.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “S’all right. It was a long time ago.”

“It was?” 

Bucky looked at him. Saw the pain behind the carefully placed mask he didn’t even realize Steve had been wearing all this time. His heart ached in ways he never expected. Maybe he and Steve had a lot more in common than he previously thought. A part of him wanted to reach out and hug Steve. No one had ever hugged him after his parents had died. If it wasn't for Winter, Bucky wouldn't’ve bad anyone to go to when he needed comfort. While his uncle took care of political affairs, he'd never been the warmest type.

“Yes.” Steve stared straight ahead, seeing ugly things, Bucky assumed, from his past. “I was eleven.” 

That meant Steve had been on his own for nine years. That was just a year after the fire. 

“How?” Bucky whispered. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t his business, but it’d been brought up and curiosity swept through him like a whispering wind. 

“They were hanged,” Steve grunted. “For treason.” 

Bucky looked over at him, the next obvious question flickering like candlelight within his eyes. His expression was not well received and Bucky cringed away from Steve’s hard glare. 

“They _didn’t_ do it,” he growled. “My mother would have _never_ betrayed the King and Queen let alone start the fire that _killed_ them.” Steve’s whole body tensed, his fist curling as if daring Bucky to challenge that. “Ask anyone. Sarah Rogers would _never_.”

Sarah Rogers. The name floated along Bucky’s mind like wisps of fog on a hot night before a storm. Bucky knew that name. And her. 

“Sarah Rogers?” Bucky breathed and caught eyes with Winter. She remembered too. “She was… she was my… I mean, she was the king’s advisor, wasn’t she?”

Focused very much on the ground now, Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. The afternoon trembled around Bucky. Sunlight became harsh. The ground shifted. Bucky drowned in the realization of something horrible. 

“But… she was the Duchess of Brooklyn.”

Which made her of noble blood. Very high nobility, at that. The Duke and Duchess were outranked only by the Royal family. All this time, Bucky’d been with the Duke of Brooklyn. Steve wasn’t a commoner at all. And as far as Steve knew, he outranked Bucky.

“Yes. Yes, she was.”

“That means, you’re the _Duke_ of Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “You’re _not_ a commoner.” 

“I never said I was.” 

“But you—”

“Outrank you?” Steve interrupted. Sort of. Out here, yes. “Maybe I did. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been stripped I’ve my title. My mother didn’t exactly let me stick around to find out once the royal guard came for them. I don’t think the Prince is too pleased with me running free.” 

For one, wild moment, Bucky wished he could tell him the truth. That he wanted to get to the bottom of this as much as he did. That none of it made sense. That it had to be some big misunderstanding. 

Bucky even opened his mouth to say at least some of that but stopped when Steve pointed to something ahead of them. 

“And that’s enough of that,” he said, “cause here we are.” 

Nestled right in the heart of the village was the tavern, happily proclaiming the name _Peggy’s Place_ on the sign above the door. The place looked nice. Flowers planted around it. Big windows in the front. Steve opened the door for them.

Inside was just a nice. People with their dæmons seated at tables and at the bar ordering drinks and food. They talked. Laughed. Soft music played from somewhere Bucky didn’t see. An air of sweetness and comfort floated through the place. Like everyone there had found somewhere to be themselves. Together. 

“Steven!”

The greeting came from the woman behind the bar. Soft brown hair held back by a red ribbon. Big brown eyes. She currently had her hands full of dirty dishes that made Bucky crinkle up his nose.

“Hello, Peg,” Steve said as he stepped closer. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, same, I suppose,” she said with an added last second shrug. “And you, my darling? Anything new to report to me and Agent?”

Agent, Bucky assumed, must’ve been the little red fox sitting at the corner of the bar. He hopped down, though, when Captain came towards her. The fox called out Captain’s name with glee in his voice. At first, Winter stuck by Bucky’s side and Bucky could feel a similar ache come from her heart that he felt the first time Steve walked away from him. Unlike with Steve, Captain turned back and called her to join them and that ache was instantly replaced with excitement. 

“I have, Peggy,” Steve answered. He leaned against the bar with some odd sense of familiarity. Bucky found that he didn’t quite like it. “I’ve brought you a customer, actually.” 

Taking that as his cue, Bucky stepped next to Steve and waited as Peggy inspected him with the same sense of curiosity as the Avengers had. Eyebrows lifted. Lips tight. Skepticism brewing in those vivacious eyes of hers. Bucky worried that if this Peggy, who’d abandoned her dirty dishes in favor of talking with Steve, didn’t approve of him, he wouldn’t get the room.

“Seems awfully well-dressed to be one of your strays,” she observed and then offered grin in Steve’s direction. “Do you have to pay for this one or is he paying for himself?”

Pay for this one, she said. Bucky’s stomach did that flip it’d started doing more and more of lately. He could only assume that meant one thing. That he wasn’t the first person Steve had brought here. And that Steve sometimes paid for their rooms.

“Well.” Steve swung his gaze back to Bucky. “I’ve given all my money away already so—”

“I have money,” Bucky assured them, though, he was quite sure Steve already knew that. “I can pay for my own room.” 

“Oh, he’s a feisty one, isn’t he?” Peggy chuckled. “I like that. Who is he then and where did you find him?”

“In the woods. He was a little lost.” Steve put his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. Gentle, but it still sent chills up Bucky’s spine. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is Peggy.”

“Hello, Bucky, pleased to meet you,” Peggy said. “Any friend of Steve’s is a welcomed guest of mine. We have a bathhouse that you’re more than welcome to use during your stay.”

“Oh. Oh, th-thank you.” 

Bucky nodded and glanced over to where their dæmons all huddled together. Winter looked so happy, being with Captain.

“Well then.” Steve slid his hand from Bucky’s neck to the small of his back. “I believe I’ve made good on my end of the deal.” He gave a little salute to Bucky and glanced back at Peggy. “Have fun.” 

He walked out then. After a quick clap on the shoulder, he walked out and Captain followed. 

“So,” Peggy said. “About that room…”

Eyes still trained on the door Steve left through, several thoughts passed through Bucky’s mind at once. Too many. He couldn’t think straight. Winter looked back at him and Bucky could see the pang of loneliness he felt inside glistening in her eyes. 

“If you leave now,” Peggy said, prompting Bucky took back at her. “I’m sure you could catch up to him.”

“I’m… I…” Bucky glanced at the door again. Winter already moved for it. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s quite all right,” she replied. “You’d better hurry up, though.” 

Bucky did just that. He turned on his heels and hurried for the door. Winter was right by his side. 

“Do you think he’ll let us stay?” Bucky asked. 

“Why else would she have suggested it?” Winter said. “They seem to know each other well enough.” 

“Which way did they go?”

“I don’t know.”

They each looked in different directions. Couldn’t be too difficult to find a man of Steve’s stature with a lioness for a dæmon. Even in such a large crowd. 

“Steve!” Bucky shouted when he spotted him a few yards away. “Steve, wait!”

Making their way through all the people, Bucky continued to yell for him until Steve stopped and turned as though both shocked and exhausted by the fact that Bucky was back. Neither of them said a word. They just stared at one another for a few moments, something buzzing between them. 

The world shifted when Steve’s mouth curved up in that amused smirk of his. He tilted his head back and shook it with a dark chuckle. 

“You’re gonna pull your own weight,” he said. “No one is gonna do it for you.” Bucky nodded. Eagerly, even. “You’ll work just like the rest of us.”

“Yes, yes,” Bucky agreed. “I understand.”

Steve, through his smirk, sighed and waved for Bucky to follow. Taking one excited glimpse at Winter, Bucky and her hurried to do just that. 


	6. Chapter 6

Life with the Avengers was unlike anything Bucky’d ever thought he’d experience. Things he never thought he’d want to be part of his life had become, over the weeks, simply commonplace. Bucky had no comfort sleeping in a hammock and held no enjoyment in the tasks they made him do in order to _pull his own weight_ as they always put it. But, after a while, he learned to do them without a grumble in the back of his mind. 

The Avengers, he also learned, each had some special talent they could provide for their special team. It had been quite amusing to watch Rhodey grab hold of Tony and haul him onto the back of his horse while he charged through an open field, sword raised and ready. Bucky knew how to ride, of course, but he’d never seen such brilliant horsemanship. Tony, while knowing how to ride himself, was much better with his tools and seemed to be able to build anything from nothing. In the village, even when filled with the royal guards, Natasha knew how to blend like a tree in the forest. Sam, well, Bucky’d never seen anyone fight with his fists as good as Sam. And that was only practising. When it came to archery, no one in the kingdom could hit a target better than Clint, Bucky was sure of that. Then there was Wanda. That young lady could set up traps like magic.

It hadn’t taken all that long for them to warm up to Bucky being there either. They’d been mildly surprised to see him with Steve when everyone returned, but they also didn’t question it. Now, when Bucky and Winter entered the common area in the morning, they’re greeted with smiles and happy hellos. They’re welcomed to join in on any of their activities and even get asked to join to more trips to the village. Not just by Steve, either. Bucky and Winter’ve gone back with Natasha and Wanda a number of times. They’ve traveled the long distance with Clint to see that farm they spoke of and found that a family waited there. His. A wife and three children. Bucky has now seen the university, too. Where Sam, Rhodey, and Tony’s wives—Maria, Carol, and Pepper—keep running and safe to the best of their abilities. 

They all took pity on him as well. Help him learn the things he needed to to make life with them easier. Or, maybe it just made it easier for them if he knew better. Either way Bucky now knew how to darn socks. Not very well or quickly, but he _could_ do it. He wasn’t that bad in helping in the kitchen anymore either. When someone needed something peeled or diced, he could manage. He could even chop wood. Tony showed him how to fix the axle of a carriage wheel and build a fishing pool with gears and everything. 

It’d been Wanda who offered to take him deep into to the woods, to make their hunting traps.

“Why can’t I just have Winter hunt?” he asked.

“And what if Winter doesn’t _want_ to hunt?”

Wanda hadn’t asked that, but Winter. Scarlet, who circled above them, snickered lightly. Smirk on her face, eyebrows lifted, the same question appeared on Wanda’s face.

“Well, no, I just… I meant…” He sighed. “Okay. Okay, show me how to set these magic traps of yours.” 

By the end of that afternoon, Bucky could set up several different types of snares. A few days later he also learned how to light a decent fire in the middle of the woods. 

Bucky was skilled with a sword, but what he didn’t realize before was that he’d been taught to be flashy. He knew etiquette and finesse. Almost like a dance. 

“You wanna take a tighter grip,” Rhodey said. “Change your stance, it’ll keep you on your feet better. You wanna be able to charge at your opponent and defend yourself at the same time.”

“That’s possible?” Bucky asked. 

“Of course.” He raised his own weapon and demonstrated. “Your way is pretty and fancy, but this way’ll be a lot more effective in a fight.”

Rhodey wasn’t the only one to teach him in new ways of combat. Though he’d never once picked up a bow, Clint had been happy to help him learn when he asked. Of course, things did not go as well as Bucky’d hoped. 

“Ow!” he yelled when the string snapped against his fingers. “That thing’s gonna chop my fingers off!”

Laughing, Clint shook him by the shoulders and helped him out again. Showed him a better way to hold it. 

“Here you go, buddy,” Clint said. “Ease the tension out of your shoulders. Breathe easy. You’re not gonna get it perfectly, but with some practice…”

When Bucky let go the next time, he didn’t get hurt. Not as much anyway. There was a bit of a bite, but the arrow flew from the bow and into the nearest tree trunk. It wasn’t a perfect trajectory, but it stuck and Bucky gasped with excitement 

“Eey!” Clint clapped him on the back. “There you go, kid!” 

“First rule of going on the run,” Natasha taught him when they’d been out and royal guards came around, “is walk, don’t run.” 

“But what if they see us?”

“Then they see us acting like we belong here,” she told him. “No reason to make them suspicious.”

It’d been an incredible thing to watch. Even when they were approached and questioned, she’d sent the guards away laughing and convinced that she and Bucky were betrothed. She’d also managed to get them to slip information to her. There were more of them around because they were looking for someone. _Oh, not to worry, ma’am, no one dangerous_ , is what they’d said. No one dangerous. Bucky could only assume that meant him. He exchanged a look with Winter, both relieved for Natasha’s help. 

She also practiced in bodily combat with Sam. No weapons or armor. Natasha was swift and agile. Together, they both showed Bucky different ways to fight. 

“First of all,” Sam instructed, “you gotta keep your thumb out. Who taught you how to make a fist?”

“Second,” Natasha said, “follow through with your punch.”

“Use your whole body.”

“Put all your weight into it.” 

When Bucky tried to hit Sam’s palm, he missed entirely and fell flat on his face. They all found this to be a source of great entertainment for several days. But they kept working at it and eventually, Bucky did manage to strike Sam’s hand. 

Winter’d become friendlier with all the other dæmons. They’d play and frolic and roll around together. She chased Falcon and Scarlet through open meadows and swam with Lucky through the river—rougher water than Bucky could handle. Dumi tossed food or other objects for games of catch. Rhodey’s margay, Patriot, very much enjoyed climbing trees while Winter followed upon rocks. Even Widow got in on the action It made a warm burst of sunlight rise through Bucky. He thoroughly enjoyed Winter being so happy. She was content and comfortable there among other dæmons. Most so, Captain. Whenever the chance came, the two would lay together and talk. About what, Bucky didn’t really know, but they always looked so cozy, so right and normal together, that he didn’t want to interrupt. 

Bucky like that fact that Winter and Captain had grown close. The more Captain was around, the more Steve was around. Out of all of them, Steve disappeared the most often. Sometimes he’d only be gone half a day, sometimes days at a time. Whenever he’d return it’d be with more gold. Gold that they, true to Steve’s word, always gave away. 

When Steve would come back, Bucky couldn’t deny an immediate change in everyone there. Bucky’d been the one born to lead, but when Steve walked into a room, everyone in it fell right under his command. He didn’t even ask for it. This overwhelming need to follow his rule, his lead, Bucky didn’t think Steve knew it existed. He never expected to fall into this role, but he had and he took the job seriously and did it with the best of his ability. People trusted him, though. They’d trust Steve to do what’s right by them. Always. 

Even something in Bucky changed whenever Steve came in. Oh, he tried to deny it. At first, it even worked. He refused to brighten up and be excited just because Steve came back. But, after a while, it grew harder and harder to come up with excuses to miss the fact that his smile appeared the second Steve did. 

Steve just carried something with him. Warmth and strength. Almost as though the sun was drawn to him. Everything came to life because of Steve. When Steve was around, Bucky felt like maybe everything would be okay. 

Steve was different from the rest of the Avengers. He was quiet and more reserved. And still, he had a laugh that could roll over mountaintops. A very sense of humor to go along with it. He loved to hug. Bucky watched him hug all of them and several occasions for no reason whatsoever. He’d just grab them out of whatever they were doing and pull them into his arms, big, silly grin on his face as he did. He played their games and watched their activities and got caught up in as many arguments as the rest of them did, but Bucky thought he much preferred sitting back and watching. Steve just liked to sit in his little corner with that book in his lap so he could draw and listen to the Avengers.

Which, when luck would have it, also sometimes included Bucky. 

Bucky loved it whenever he happened to glance up and caught Steve also looking at him. This would always result in a smile and a blush. On both sides, Bucky thought. He loved to feel Steve close enough to him that the heat from his body—so strong, so intense—mixed with his. He loved that Steve took interest in what the others were teaching him how to do. 

Steve tasted the rabbit he cooked and told him how good it was. He walked with him to the river to fill the water barrels. He watched whenever Bucky was out with the others. He did sweet things for no reason other than to do them.

They took walks together and sometimes Steve would pick flowers, telling Bucky the names of them when he did. One evening, when he and Captain had been out hunting, Steve returned with a whole bunch of them tied together.

“Um, here.” He handed them to Bucky. “I thought, maybe, you’d like these.”

“Flowers?” Bucky asked. “You picked these for me?”

“N-well, I mean, I just picked them while we were out there,” Steve answered. Scratched the back of his head and shuffled his feet. “But I thought you could put them in your hut. Maybe just—”

“Thank you, Steve.” Bucky took them and pressed them to his nose. “I do like them.”

They stared at each other for a moment, so much heat spilling between them, until someone cleared their throat. Steve swung his gaze in that direction and only then did Bucky remember that they weren’t alone. 

Sometimes, when the long afternoons become lazy and hot, Bucky accompanied Steve to the lake to go swimming. Those were times when Bucky found Steve turning playful and silly.

“Steve!” Bucky exclaimed after being dunked under the water. “What the—”

Steve laughed and splashed more water at him. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little lake water?”

Though Bucky’d only ever swam in the refreshing spring waters of the pools at the Palace, he had to admit he’d felt a sense of adventure when swimming at the lake. With sand between his toes and fish swimming by him. And Steve. Shirtless. Dripping with water.

“I can handle it,” Bucky muttered with an indignant lift of his chin. “Just because I don’t behave like a Neanderthal doesn’t mean I-Steve, no!”

Bucky dove to the side to avoid being dunked again when Steve threw himself at him. He made it, but it didn’t matter. They both slipped under the water anyway and resurfaced in near hysterics.

When he’d learned that Bucky’d been training with Rhodey, Sam, and Natasha, Steve even challenged him to a duel and Bucky, being a man of honor and nobility, accepted.

What he hadn’t expected was Steve’s level of expertise. And the man used mostly that round shield of his. 

“You fight like a dance,” he teased. “Are we to waltz or duel?”

“Shut up.” Bucky, out of breath and trembling with fatigue after nearly an hour, raised his sword to beckon him. “I’m not done.”

“I see that.” 

Bucky moved to strike. Steve parried. Swept with his leg. Bucky turned. Right into Steve’s shield. He fell hard. And when his vision cleared again, he looked right at the tip of Steve’s sword. 

For a moment, Bucky could think of nothing but the past. All those duels he’d won against young knights and noblemen. The duels they let him win. There, against Steve, he’d tried his hardest. And lost. 

“You…” Bucky grinned. “You _beat_ me.” 

“Yes.” Steve nodded and offered a hand to help him up. “I believe I did.” 

Overjoyed. That was the only word Bucky could call the feeling the whirled around him. He nearly jumped into Steve’s arms. He managed to refrain, but he did throw his own arms around him. 

“Winter!” he cried out. “Did you see? He beat me! I lost!”

“I did,” she laughed. “I did, Bucky. You tried, but he beat you.”

“You know,” Clint murmured to someone, Bucky didn’t see who, “maybe someone should explain to him the difference between winning and losing.”

But Bucky didn’t care. None of them understood. He just laughed. Winter laughed along with him, circling around him with her own excitement. Winter knew what it meant to him. Steve had treated him as an equal. Not a prince. He was just Bucky to them. 

Being there with the Avengers, able to be just Bucky, he began to lose track of time. He’d stopped counting the days. Maybe a week had gone by. Had it been a month? The Avengers did things on their own time, at their own pace, in a way the rest of the world had forgotten. For the first time in Bucky Barnes’ life, he felt free. 

Free to ask questions. Free to laugh. Free to play.

The Avengers, he came to realize, were not a misfit band of rebels. Or, well, not _just_ a misfit band of rebels. They were made up of thieves, yes. The world’s most honest thief, at that. Of inventors and soldiers turned traitors. Of silver tongued liars and brilliant yet clumsy marksmen. Of incredible fighters and magical hunters. 

More than any of that, the Avengers were a family. Not bound by blood, but by loss and tragedy. Out of the ashes, they forged something stronger than steel. Together, they’d learned how to live again. Brought each other back to life in their own unique ways. It left an ache right in the center of Bucky’s heart. Their family was made up of thieving inventors, liars, traitors, marksmen, fighters, and hunters, but it was still theirs. And Bucky wondered if, maybe one day, he’d get to be a part of a family too. 

***

“Attention!” announced Sheriff Zemo, standing by a royal coach. He called all those gathered in the village center. “I have a notice here from the palace to be read immediately! No dawdling!”

While others, not risking being arrested, did as they were told, Bucky ducked behind them all. This went completely against everything Natasha had taught him, but he couldn’t stay there and risk getting caught. She was there, somewhere, but Bucky’d lost sight of her and the rest of the Avengers the second Sheriff Zemo showed his face.

“From the order of Prince James,” Sheriff Zemo said, reading from the scroll he had, “A five percent tax increase on all traded goods to be collected immediately.”

The crowd of people let out an immediate cry of outrage. Their fists flew up. A slew of colorful phrases spread over everyone. And Bucky glanced down at Winter.

“I did what?” he muttered.

“Sounds like you raised the taxes.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “Again.”

Things started happening then. So much that Bucky didn’t know what to do. He looked around to find everyone who he’d come with, but they were nowhere to be found. Not even Steve who, just minutes before, had been right next to him.

The guards pushed back as the crowd pulsed. They were forced back into their homes and businesses. The second doors closed, they’re opened again. Guards shoved their way into places and came back out with bags of money. 

Even with children crying. Women yelling. Men swearing. 

House to house and business to business, the guards continued going into them and, from what it sounded like out there, ravaging through the places looking for whatever extra money they could. Whenever they came back out, they’d load their haul into the back of the coach. Where there were other guards stationed behind so that no one could try to get their money back. 

Strange, though. They kept their hoods up. Maybe to hide their faces from the villages to be less hated while on patrol. The uniforms as well. They looked outdated. Old and worn. 

“Winter,” Bucky murmured. “You see that, right?” 

There was a smile in her voice when she said, “Oh, yes, I see it.” 

“Is that…”

“Yes, I believe it is.” 

They only needed a few more minutes to confirm it. Sheriff Zemo called all the guards back to the coach, _thanked_ everyone for their cooperation and then left, taking all that money with them. To be used for what, Bucky didn’t know. What he did know, was the sudden despair that appeared. It saturated the air. With tears and desperate cries. 

Everything Steve had said during that first walk there fell into place. He was right. How could they truly be happy? A black rain cloud hovered over everything, always. This could happen at any time. The sheriff could just show up with a royal decree and take their hard earned money in the name of the Prince. There was nothing they could do about it either. 

Well, maybe they couldn’t. But Bucky could. If he hurried and went after the coach, maybe he could still catch Zemo. He could make him give all the money back. People would see then. They’d see that Prince James wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Bucky,” Winter said. “You know what’ll happen if you go to him.” 

Yes. Yes, Bucky knew. If he went to Zemo to demand he give the money back, he’d be taken back, too. Back to the Palace. Back to being engaged to Brock. Back to his Regent Uncle. 

“I know.” The words hurt, but he knew. He knew and he accepted it. “I know what I have to do.” 

“And what is it that you have to do?”

Bucky gasped and spun around to find Steve standing right behind him. The rest of the Avengers were not far behind, strolling closer like nothing unusual had happened at all. 

“Wh-what happened?” Bucky asked. “Where’d you all go?”

Natasha shook her head with a sigh. “You didn’t do anything like we practiced, you know.”

“I… I…” Bucky just blinked. Tried again. “I mean, I…”

“I think you broke him, Nat.” Sam laughed and clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “Give the kid a break, it was his first time.” 

“He didn’t do too bad,” Clint said, Lucky trotting happily between all of them. “No one noticed him.” 

“You’re still sweating like a sinner in church,” Wanda remarked. “Were you really that nervous?”

Bucky looked at all of them watching him with something akin to worry. Only Winter’d ever looked at him like that. Even Steve wore the expression. Steve, who took a step closer as though he meant to embrace and comfort him, but held back at the last second. 

“No,” Bucky whispered. “No, I’m… I’m fine. I was just… surprised, is all. At all… that.” 

“Ah, yes.” Tony gestured in the direction Zemo had gone. “Our lovely Sheriff.”

“It’s wonderful when he pays us a visit, isn’t it?” Rhodey asked. “Never know when he’s going to show his face.”

“Better than Rumlow,” Steve said. “If I could get my hands on that pig…”

“Steve.” That was Captain, but she most certainly didn’t sound as though she disagreed. “Maybe we should move along.” 

Though he didn’t realize it until Steve took a glance at him, Bucky had taken to shuffling his feet in the dirt. Any color drained from his cheeks. Even they knew how repulsive Brock Rumlow was. Only Bucky saw more than just disgust on Steve’s face. Sympathy flickered across it. Bucky’s stomach fell. 

“Steve,” Sam said. “Are we gonna do this?”

“Oh.” Steve tore his gaze away from Bucky. “Yes. Come on.” 

Not sure if that meant him or not, Bucky just stayed where he was while the rest of them took to calling the attention of all the villagers. Villagers who didn’t seem to notice that they were even there until they called for them. The first person to look was the baker who, over the past few weeks, Bucky learned had a wife and three children. 

“Steve,” he said as Steve and the others approached. “What do we do? They took so much. They—”

“They what?” Steve asked. Smiled. Big and mischievous. “Decided to collect all the rocks in the area?”

The puzzled expression on the man’s face matched the feeling that trickled through Bucky. This didn’t seem the most appropriate time for tomfoolery, yet Steve hadn’t taken back his comment. He did, however, reach under his cloak and pull out not one, not two, but _four_ bags that had thought to’ve been taken off by Zemo. 

As soon as Steve revealed what he’d been hiding, the rest of the Avengers did the same. Every one of them had bags of gold themselves. They’d stolen the money right back. 

The guards, Bucky realized. The guards with their hoods up. It had been them all along, switching bags of money for bags of rocks. At least, enough so that it’d fool that rotten sheriff long enough while he traveled to the next village. A village that didn’t have anyone to protect them from the rotten Prince James’ evil tax collection. 

Winter glanced up at Bucky when the thought circled through his mind. This village had the Avengers to help it. What about the rest of Brooklyn? Other villagers that Zemo made his way to and rummaged through houses and businesses to take whatever money he could. Money to be brought back to the Palace. A horrible thought hit him. 

What if he’d used that money himself? The allowances that his uncle had given to him. Bucky’d always assumed it just… was his. Money was just something that existed. An unlimited resource. Plentiful. His right to be used always and on anything. He never really gave much thought to where it came from. Now, his stomach hurt. 

“Everyone! Come to the tavern!” Peggy called for them as they rejoiced around their savoirs. “We’ll celebrate the night away! Three cheers for the Avengers! And down with that _scurvy_ Prince of Brooklyn!” 

The Avengers did get their cheers. Everyone around them hugged and kissed and even cried as they ushered them to Peggy’s. Bucky, however, alone with Winter, just stood there, heartbroken. Until one person let the crowd get ahead of him and he, too, stood apart from the crown. 

Steve and Captain waited just a moment before they both took a glance over their shoulders. A small grin curled up on the side of Steve’s mouth just before he waved for Bucky and Winter to come along. Almost as though they belonged right in the middle of the celebration. But he didn’t. And Bucky knew it.

Bucky nodded and went anyway.

Peggy’s Place smelled of fire and pies. Food being cooked. It was loud and crowded, and since coming, Bucky wasn’t quite sure where he fit in. 

In the corner, a band set up to play music. Looked like the whole place was getting ready for an evening of great fun. 

The Avengers were scattered around, some of them chatting with each other and villagers. Clint had his attention stolen by the dart boards since walking in and Natasha was busy winning hand over fist at games of poker. As for Steve, well, he never left Peggy’s side behind the bar and even licked cream off her finger as she readied a pie. 

Bucky hoped it tasted good because all it did was left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. Horrible and ridiculous, of course. If Steve and Peggy were engaged it was no business of Bucky’s. Really, Bucky should’ve been happy for him. 

To celebrate that happiness, Bucky got himself a pint of beer. Different than the drinks he was used to. It warmed his throat as it filled his belly. He liked it. He got another. 

“Bucky,” Winter muttered when he was on his third. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m _celebrating_ ,” he said. “Isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

“I suppose.” Bucky could hear heartache in her voice. “But do you need to get us drunk to do it?”

Lifting the glass to his lips again, Bucky gulped back more of the drink and shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Tears burned behind his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What’s wrong with me? What’s happening?”

“You’re sad,” she whispered. Winter glanced back at the back. Where Captain sat with Peggy’s dæmon and Steve by the bar. “I understand.” 

This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. He’d come here to get away from the mess his life at home had become, not find himself messed up in a tangled web of lies and conspiracies. So many emotions mixed up in his head he didn’t know how to pick them apart. 

“Make it stop.” Bucky’s voice quivered. “I don't want to be sad anymore, Winter.”

The only answer Winter gave to him was a nudge against his ankle. Bucky rubbed the tears from his eyes—tears he didn’t quite understand—and finished the rest of his drink. Once the glass was empty, he turned it in circles between his palms. It made a scratching noise on the table, though, the table didn’t have much to say. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there with his empty glass, but he jumped in his seat the second it was pulled from his grip. A second later, a full glass replaced it. 

“What’re you doing moping over here by yourself?”

Bucky pulled his eyes away from the freshly poured pint to look up at Tony. Dumi climbed down from his shoulder and curled around Winter. 

“Nothing. I’m not doing… I’m not…” Bucky picked up the glass and took a big gulp. “I am _not_ moping.”

Tony gave him something of a crooked smile. “No? Well, you’re certainly giving someone goo-goo eyes.” 

Instead of commenting, Bucky scoffed and finished off the rest of that drink. Which, apparently, was quite hysterical, since Tony laughed hard enough that tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. Bucky didn’t know why he was laughing and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was that he wanted another drink. Which he got, courtesy of Sam. 

“What’s happening over here?” he asked. “This is supposed to be a party!” 

“We’re over here,” Tony answered. “Giving Steve goo-goo eyes and not moping.” 

Bucky made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and dropped his head down onto the table. This couldn’t be that obvious to everyone else. He’d barely even known himself, how attracted he was to Steve until he saw him with another. 

“Am I that hopeless?” he asked. 

“Probably not.” That answer came from Widow, who crawled across the table and up the candelabra. “But you’re quite obvious.”

“To us, anyway,” Natasha said, coming from behind him.

Rhodey joined them next. “Probably not to Steve. He doesn’t notice things like this.”

“Other things, yes,” Wanda added. “But not like this.” 

Bucky blinked. Realized that he was now surrounded by all of the Avengers save for Steve and shook his head. 

“Why?” he questioned. “I mean. Not that… I don’t…” Bucky cleared his throat and tugged on his collar. “You know, I’m not saying that I _do_ , but if I did… why wouldn’t Steve… notice?”

“He doesn’t always notice nice things for him,” Clint said. “He’s always so concerned with everyone else that he sometimes forgets to look out for himself.” 

That might’ve been true enough, but Steve obviously looked out enough for himself to get a good catch. Bucky barely even knew here and yet he knew damn well that Peggy was the kind of woman kings killed for. 

About halfway through the next drink, Bucky found himself being pulled to his feet, both Tony and Sam at either side of him. At first, he couldn’t quite figure out why. Until he realized the band had started playing and people had started dancing. Including Steve with Peggy. 

Steve didn’t look too graceful on his feet, but he knew the steps and twists and turns, even if they did lead to stepped on toes and bumped foreheads. None of that seemed to matter since everyone was laughing and singing along in the song being performed. A lovely ballad, really. Upbeat and fun. A little song in honor of Bucky himself. How the world will remember him a thousand years from now. 

For being inept. How they all slaved away under him. That he taxed them to pieces and robbed them of their bread. But as long as there’d been a just will in good ol’ Steve Roger’s pack, they’d find a way to make him pay and steal their money back. 

Oh, and Bucky’s favorite part had to be that a minute before he knew they were there, that ol’ Steve would snag his underwear. 

Bucky didn’t stick around for the encore. Instead, he went to get himself another drink and ignored Winter’s slurred begging not to over do it. 

He did like watching, though, and couldn’t really keep himself from coming back over and over to see Steve twirl Peggy away and back in again. Other people danced as well. They even sporadically changed partners and Bucky wondered a few times if he could get out there and dance, too. The woman singing no longer sang about him, but other songs. Songs that still had people laughing and twirling happy tos and fros about the tavern. 

“You’re ogling again.”

Head hanging, Bucky grunted and glared now at Sam who’d joined in the new game of pointing this out every time they noticed. He wondered how long they’d known. When they’d realized. That his belly doubled in size whenever Steve took a step in his general direction. His heart picked up in speed. The middle of his palms got much too sweaty. 

Still. “Am not.” 

“No?” Sam chuckled. “You about done with that then?”

Not sure what he meant by that, Bucky had to look down at the glass he held tightly in his hand. Only a small amount swirl around in the bottom. He hadn’t even realized how quickly he drank that one. Bucky finished it off and when Sam held his hand out for it, he gave it over, assuming Sam meant to get another. He was wrong. Very wrong. 

The second the glass is safely tucked in Sam’s grip, someone else nudged his hip hard enough that Bucky tripped over his own two feet and towards the dancers. He slammed right into someone’s back—a wall of rippling muscle. Bucky glared back at those who so kindly shoved him at some random stranger and all he got were waves and laughs from Tony and Rhodey. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled to whoever he bumped into. “I didn’t mean to-oh…”

Steve smiled at him. Didn’t appear put off by the fact that Bucky had tumbled into him at all. 

“That’s quite all right,” he said. “No harm done.” 

Steve glanced over his shoulder. Peggy had partnered with the lady who’d been singing earlier. Someone must’ve replaced her since there was still singing, but Bucky didn’t see who. When Steve looked at Bucky again, still with that same smile, he held his hands up. An invitation, it looked like. 

“Care to join me,” he asked, “for a spin around the floor?”

“I…” Bucky’s ears must’ve been clogged. He couldn’t’ve heard that correctly. “I don’t know… um… I can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t they still teach nobility how to dance?”

“Well, yes.” Bucky nodded. Fought against the spinning room. “But this is quite different.”

Steve chuckled. “I know. Come on.” He gathered Bucky’s hands in his own. “I don’t know how to do it properly either. Just try to keep up with everyone else.” 

They both stumbled over each others feet. They clocked each other in the head. They stepped all over one another. And ended up red-faced with uproarious laughter that had Bucky wanting the music to never end. 

It didn’t. Not right away. But it did switch, the melody and beat and music easily moving from upbeat and exciting to slower and poignant. 

People coupled off to dance appropriately and while Steve didn’t fully break away from their position, neither did he retain it. Almost as though he was giving Bucky the choice to remain and dance the slower song with him or to leave for something else. Their eyes locked. If Steve didn’t find it necessary to dance with his Peggy then Bucky would take the opportunity to share the dance. Probably the only one he’d have with him. 

He smiled and stepped back into Steve’s embrace, fixing their position for the song. Bucky placed his hand on Steve’s hip. His palm buzzed. 

“I’m happy for you,” Bucky murmured as they moved side to side. A bit awkward. Steve, funnyily enough, had been better at moving quicker. “I wish you two nothing but the best.” 

Steve, who’d been looking down at his feet, snapped his gaze back to Bucky and tilted his head. 

“You wish the best for who exactly?”

“You and… Peggy?” he said. Confused. “You’re together, aren’t you?”

A burst of laughter nearly interrupted the song playing. Luckily, Steve maintained it enough to keep everyone from staring at them. 

“I think someone better tell her, then,” he said. “And her wife, Angie.” 

Jerking his chin forward, Steve gazed at something over Bucky’s head. Bucky turned to see. There, on the dancefloor, Peggy held the singer, Angie, close and kissed the inside of her neck. Angie giggled and blushed and kissed right back. At their feet, Peggy’s dæmon, Agent, and a pretty ginger cat, circled them, nuzzling their own heads together. 

A rush of embarrassment ran through Bucky’s body. It hit him so hard he pulled away from Steve. As though it’d been the last thing he expected, Steve staggered forward. 

“Bucky? What’s—” Steve reached out as Bucky moved away. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. Over and over. “No. Nothing. You’re just… you’re…”

“I’m what, Bucky? What it is?”

“You’re perfect and I…” 

Hand clapped over his mouth, Bucky wish horribly to shove those words back down his throat before they reached Steve’s ears. Too late, though. He could tell by the was Steve’s mouth curved up in a smile. 

“Bucky,” he breathed. Reached out again. “I think you’re—”

But Bucky slammed his hands over his ears and dashed to the bar, where Winter was lying in front of. She lifted her head when he came near. Winter didn’t even say a word when he asked for another drink. She understood. Bucky didn’t want to hear what Steve had to say. Truth was, he didn’t need to. He already knew what Steve thought of him. Steve just didn’t know it.

Bucky didn’t remember getting up the stairs, but he found himself on top of them. Like a dead weight in someone’s arms. He looked up and saw Steve. Two of him. 

“Oh, there is he,” Steve said when he noticed Bucky staring at him. Both of him. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll get you to a bed. You can sleep it off.” 

“Wha—” Bucky blinked and tried to look around. “Where’s… what’d I have? How to do?”

“Well, the where is upstairs at Peggy’s. The what’d you have is you had way too many drinks, and… I’m not quite sure how to answer that last one.”

Groaning, Bucky thought to pull himself away from Steve so he could walk on his own, but when he tried, he nearly toppled to the floor. The only reason he didn’t was Steve’s arms catching him before he hit. Off to the side, Winter leaned against Captain for support. She walked on her own, but did need a little help. Because Bucky’d gotten her blind, stinking drunk. 

“It’s all right, Bucky,” Steve said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

At first, Bucky wasn’t sure why he would say such a thing. Until he realized he’d started to apologize, the words just tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Okay, here we go.” Steve reached out and opened the door in front of them. Everything spun around Bucky. “Come on, let’s get you to the bed.”

If Bucky actually walked, it’d be a surprise to him. He couldn’t exactly feel his legs moving, but he was suddenly being placed very gently on the bed. His wrist moved. It took him a moment to realize that Steve’d picked his hand up and was pulling at the threads of his outer shirt. 

Steve slowly pulled open the sleeves and let out the waist and then the collar. When he finished, he even slid it off Bucky. He then lowered himself to his knees to untie Bucky’s boots.

“What’re you…” Bucky’s tongue felt two sizes too big for his mouth. “What’re you doin’?”

“Getting you ready for bed,” he answered. He paused before taking the first boot off. “Is that okay?”

Just staring at him, Bucky nodded. Steve continued. Nighttime trembled. The world teetered on a needlepoint as Bucky watched Steve tend to him. 

“Okay,” Steve whispered once he finished. “You should be comfortable now. There’s a pitcher of water on your bedside and an empty bowl in case you feel sick. Get some rest, Bucky.” 

Steve stood, then. He was going to leave. The very last thing Bucky wanted. He grabbed onto Steve’s sleeve and yanked. Must’ve caught him off guard since Steve gasped and toppled onto the bed with him. 

The second Steve was there, Bucky threw himself over him. Bucky, born Prince James, could have whatever he wanted. It was his Divine Right. Right now, he wanted Steve. He would have him.

Bucky grabbed hold of the front of Steve’s shirt and planted a long, firm kiss. One that Steve didn’t reciprocate. 

“Bucky.” Steve took hold of Bucky’s waist. “Bucky, we can’t do this.”

“Yes,” Bucky murmured, not pulling his mouth away from Steve’s. “Yes, we can. I want to. I want you.” 

“No, Bucky,” Steve replied. A slight strain in his voice. “We can’t.” 

“But—”

“ _No_.” Steve’s voice grew hard and firm then, and he pushed Bucky away from him. Not rough. Even now, Steve found a way to be gentle. “I’m not doing this, Bucky.” 

Bucky hadn’t been pushed back onto the mattress. He still sat atop Steve’s lap albeit with humiliation shrouded over him. Tears stung his eyes. Not spilling over, but there. His lip trembled. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I didn’t mean… to cause trouble… I only…”

“Oh, no.” Steve sat up straighter and Bucky found himself wrapped in a body of muscles and sunshine. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you’re drunk and I—”

Those tears were no longer manageable. They burst from him in a broken, uncontrollable sob. 

“Oh, oh, Bucky, no,” Steve said, voice laced with such concern it almost broke Bucky’s heart. “No, please, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You hate me,” Bucky sobbed. “You all hate me so much.” 

“What?” Steve let out a sympathetic chuckle. “No one hates you, Buck. We all like you. Very much.”

“No no no.” Bucky threw himself down into the pillows. “You don’t. You don’t like me, you hate me. You do. You hate me.” 

“Bucky, baby.” Steve took to rubbing soft circles into his back. “If we hated you, we’d’ve sent you home naked weeks ago.” 

That only made Bucky cry harder. That was, in fact, the truth. They would have done that. They still would. If they found out exactly who he was. Because the truth was, they really did hate him. They liked Bucky. They hated Prince James. 

Nothing Steve said made it better. He just kept on bawling. Made pillowcases wet with tears and clutched onto blankets like they were some sort of armor. He couldn’t be sure how long he cried for. His throat hurt and his head pounded and his body shook all over. 

“Sh, Bucky, it’s okay.” Steve leaned in now and pulled him into his arms. “I don’t know if you’ll remember any of this tomorrow, but… I’m going to miss you so much when you leave.” He sighed and pet a hand over Bucky’s head. “I know you’re going to. Leave, I mean. I know we haven’t… talked much or… or gotten to know much about each other, but, Bucky… there’s something about you… I like having you here. You make me feel like… like I can be the person everyone thinks I am.” Steve paused and it sounded like he wiped away some tears of his own. “You make me brave, Bucky. You make me forget to be lonely. Even if we never see each other again, thank you for that.” 

Bucky had no idea if any of Steve words were just figments of his imagination. Just the wishful dreams of a drunken mind. When he felt Steve shift under him, he clung tighter. 

“Please,” he whispered. Throat tight and burning with more tears. “Please, don’t leave.”

“Bucky,” Steve said. “I can’t. I—”

“I don’t mean… I just… please, Steve. Please, stay with me.” 

To that, Steve never answered. Bucky just fell asleep, squished on a small bed and wrapped in the safety and warmth of a thieve’s arms. 


	7. Chapter 7

The shouting woke him. Much too early. Bucky’s head hurt and his stomach turned. Still, the shouting didn’t stop. 

“Bucky.” 

The whisper was right in his ear. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. Bucky groaned and pried his eyes open. 

“Winter?” Her snout was so close to his nose they almost touched. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Trouble,” she said. “Outside. I think you should see.” 

Lifting his head up, Bucky realized that he’d fallen asleep on Steve. The reason for that, the memories from last night, tapped on his shoulder, thought Bucky did what he could from acknowledging them. He had no desire to face that fact that he’d thrown himself at the man. Made a fool of himself in doing so. Not only had he been rejected, Bucky hadn’t exactly responded well. 

Bursting into tears. Bawling about how much they all hated him. Begging Steve to stay. Nothing Bucky cared to admit doing. 

Steve had yet to wake. Bucky got up slowly. If not only to keep Steve from waking, but to keep his own headache and stomachache at bay. To save himself added embarrassment. 

First taking a drink of water from the pitcher by his bed, Bucky next went to the window to see what the commotion was all about. He drew the curtains back to look outside. 

Down below, there were two guards. Between them, held roughly in their grip, was Peter Parker. May Parker yelled and pleaded with them as Peter struggled to get away. They led him towards a carriage. Not like the coach from yesterday adorned with jewels and ivory and silver. This one was old and rickety and made from wood. There were chains on the back of it to keep the door locked. 

When Bucky realized the guards planned on tossing Peter into the carriage to cart him away from his aunt, he swirled around to race for the door. Hungover or not, Bucky didn’t even pause for his boots. He didn’t pause when Steve started to wake either and asked what happened. Bucky simply dashed down the stairs he didn’t remember going up last night.

Natasha and Sam, who may’ve slept there on the first floor of the tavern, stood there as though getting ready to act. But Bucky didn’t wait for them. He was no longer going to be the Prince of Brooklyn that did nothing. Bucky wouldn’t see that young boy hauled off to prison for whatever reason.

“Stop!” he shouted as he burst through the front doors. “Let him go! Now!” 

Winter reached them first. Fur on edge and teeth bared, she growled and snapped at their dæmons—a hyena and bobcat respectively. The guards, amused by Bucky’s approach and not afraid to show it, dropped Peter to the ground and laughed. 

“You gonna be the one to make us let him go?” one asked, pulling out his sword. He didn’t hold it at the ready, but made it clear a fight didn’t bother him.

“Yeah,” the other said. “On whose orders exactly?” 

Bucky skid to a halt in front of them and, without even a second thought, reached into the neck of his shirt to pull out the icon he wore around his neck. The one piece of jewelry he’d been careful to keep hidden from everyone since running from the Palace. All the growling came to a stop.

“I _am_ going to be the one that makes you let him go,” he hissed. Low and heated and to them alone. “By order of the _Prince_.” 

Eyes going wide, both guards seemed to be at a loss for words. Or even what to do. Their jaws went slack and they started to fall to bended knee only to stop when Bucky shook his head. 

“Your— Your Highness,” the first guard murmured. “What are you doing out here? With this… riffraff?”

“That’s _my_ concern,” Bucky said. “You’re going to leave them alone now. And you’re sworn to secrecy. You will _not_ speak a word of this to anyone, understand?”

After a quick, unsure exchange, they looked back at Bucky and nodded. With small words of respect and soft spoken tones of uncertainty, the quickly cut the ropes tying Peter’s wrists behind his back. The second he was free, May pulled him into a hug and wouldn’t let go. 

“Bucky,” Winter murmured. “You just… exposed yourself. If those guards tell—”

“I know.” Bucky nodded and watched as May wrapped Peter tightly in her arms. She kissed his cheek and cried and held him closer. He smiled. “Even if he finds out, it was worth it.”

Hand over her head, Bucky pet her softly and smiled down at her. Almost sad, but reserved. If his time here came to a quick and abrupt end because of what he did here today then so be it. At least he knew he did the right thing.

“You know, James,” Winter said. “In case you’re still doubting yourself, you’re going to make a wonderful king.” 

Bucky grinned, softly. He had no idea how much time he had left here, he may’ve even just shortened it significantly, and Winter’s words still made him glow. Even if he didn’t quite believe her. 

Over by the tavern, Sam and Natasha stood in the doorway. Looked like they were reassuring people that, no, Zemo wasn’t back to harass them. Before Bucky got the chance to return to them and quell the curiosity in their eyes, someone flung their arms around him. Made him teeter off-balance. 

“Thank you!” May cried. “Oh, thank you so much!”

“Oh, um.” Bucky tried to hug her back. “You’re… it was… you’re welcome.” 

Pulling away, May cupped both his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I thought I’d never see him again,” she said. “You saved my baby.” 

“ _May_ ,” Peter grumbled sheepishly. He offered Bucky a timid smile. “Thank you, Bucky. I… I didn’t think…”

“It’s fine, really.” Bucky shuffled his feet. “I didn’t do much.”

“Didn’t do—” May shook her head. “Steve! He says he didn’t do much!”

Steve, who hurried towards them now, glanced between the three off, clearly caught between being worried about what happened and not being sure if everything was okay now. 

“What…” He let out a heavy breath. “Happened?” 

May explained it to him. That those two guards came and claimed that she’d not paid her taxes. When she argued that that wasn’t true, they grabbed Peter. Told her they’d bring him back when she paid everything off. 

“And Bucky here got them to release him.” She wiped her eyes dry and hugged Bucky again. “I don’t even know how he—”

“He said he’d tell the Prince,” Peter said. A good assumption if he heard only bits and pieces of what was said. “They freaked and let go.” 

Eyes falling back to Bucky, Steve didn’t look all that convinced. “They just let go? Because you threatened to tell the Prince?”

Bucky shrugged. “I just… told them who I was.” 

Well, at least that wasn’t a lie. 

“You… gave yourself up?” Steve asked. Eyes wide and now full of shock. “To help Peter?”

“And May,” Bucky said. Hurt slipped into his voice. Did Steve still think so little of him that he’d be so surprised by his actions? “I just… really, it was nothing.” 

“Bucky,” Steve whispered and fit a hand to the side of Bucky’s neck. “It was a lot more than nothing. You saved Peter’s life.” 

“Well, I—”

“You did good, kid.” 

Steve’s smile made Bucky’s heart flutter. The way he looked at him, as if last night made no difference at all, Bucky started wondering if maybe the way his insides felt when looking at him meant a lot more than admiring the man. More than desiring him physically. Bucky’s throat went dry at the thought. 

“Come on,” Steve murmured and swung an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “You gotta be hungry.” He jostled him a bit. “Let’s get you something to eat.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. In front of them, Winter and Captain had their heads pressed together. Whatever they spoke about made Winter laugh and glance back at them. 

Whatever Captain said to her made Winter happy enough that the warmth of her words washed through Bucky as well. He didn't need to hear them to know that Winter felt the same. If they could find a way to stay here, they'd do so forever. 

***

Bucky sat on the flat, gray rock in the middle of the open meadow and looked up at the sky. Watched all the twinkling stars that smiled down at him. The village peaked out just beyond the treetops. A warm wind pushed his hair back, the long grass swaying as well. Winter was somewhere close. He could feel her emotions mirror his. Pensive. Content. Confused, even. So much had changed in so little time. 

It was almost hard to remember that he’d been born James Buchanan Barnes, Prince of Brooklyn. Here, with Steve and his Avengers, he’d been accepted simply as Bucky. They never tried to befriend him for the sole purpose of serving themselves. Of getting close to the crown. Quite the contrary, actually. Bucky needed to prove his worth to them. 

He’d have to leave them, he supposed. At some point. Probably sooner because of today. This would all be a dream. The best Bucky’d ever had, but a dream nonetheless. Soon, he’d be king and have a kingdom to rule. Fix what had been broken. Make the kingdom prosper the way it had under his parents’ rule. Bucky wondered if Steve would think of him once he was gone. If all of them would think King James had been changed by the nobleman who went by the name of Bucky. 

A twig snapped. Bucky turned his head to see Steve and Captain emerge from the trees. He wore a soft smile as he came forward, lantern in hand, and stopped right at the foot of the rocks Bucky sat on. Captain strolled onward and laid with Winter. Winter nuzzled into her neck. 

“Here’s where you’ve been hiding,” Steve said, placing the lantern down on the rock. 

“I would hardly call this hiding,” Bucky answered. “I’m right here.” 

Helping himself to the space next to him, Steve snickered and faced away from Bucky. He was quiet as he stared at the trees. Deep in thought, maybe.

After a moment, he said, “You did good today, Bucky.” 

Bucky blushed. The wind played with his hair again. Invisible fingers brushing through it and pushing it out of his face when he’d much rather hide it. 

“It was nothing.” Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “Really.”

“Yes, it was,” Steve insisted. “Don’t sell yourself short. That took guts.”

“It was just the right the to do.” 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Took hold of Bucky’s hands and rubbed circles into his knuckles. “It was. I’m…” His eyes dropped. He said to their interlocked hands, “I’m really glad you’re here, Bucky.” 

Heart misbehaving and doing a somersault or two, Bucky’s eyes refused to look away from Steve. That honest and open face. Bucky’s insides were doing something odd. Spinning and twirling and making him dizzy. 

Worse when Steve took that big, soft hand and fit it to the side of Bucky’s face. Hands Bucky once thought belonged to nothing but a petty thief. A roughian. How wrong he’d been. Those hands belonged to someone kind and gentle. Who did good for a world that did nothing for him. 

A hum. Then, “Steve—”

But any words that might’ve been on his tongue were stolen away by a single kiss. Stolen by Steve. A secret. Soft and theirs to keep forever. 

Steve tasted like a drop of sun. Full of so much life and energy Bucky could find himself lost within a sea of sunshine and fluffy clouds and blue skies. 

“Oh, gods,” Steve breathed. “Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I shouldn’t’ve done that.” 

“Why?” Bucky whispered. Touched the spot on his lips where Steve’s had been. “I liked it.” 

“But you’re betrothed to another and you have a life to live away from here. You’re nobility and I’m— did you say you liked it?”

A smile twitched at the corners of Bucky’s mouth. Even in only the soft light of the lantern, Steve’s face burned red. Turned out, Steve was rather cute when he was rattled. 

“I did, in fact,” Bucky answered. “I enjoyed it very much. I might even want to do it again.” 

For another moment, Steve just stared at him and Bucky wondered if maybe he’d said the wrong thing. Until his mouth curved up in a soft, almost awed smile before leaning in again. This time, slow. Giving Bucky plenty time to back away. He didn’t. Bucky simply met Steve’s mouth with waiting lips. Even held back a whimper when they touched. 

Bucky melted under Steve’s touch. Hand at the back of his head, Steve him kissed with feeling. With all his heart and emotion. Just like he did everything. 

Bucky found himself needing more. So much. Not like that night at the tavern. A drunken impulse. Need driven by a hundred emotions he had no control over.

Tonight was different. Bucky felt it stirring deep into the marrow of his bones. The air shifted. Stirred. Ready for a bolt of lighting to strike at a moment's notice. It tingled up Bucky’s spine as Steve took him by the hips to draw him in closer.

Bucky released a shaky breath when Steve pulled his lips away and brought them across his throat. He tilted his head back. Gave Steve more. So much more than his bare throat. 

Captain was nearby and the lioness was more than capable of ripping Bucky’s exposed throat to shreds. With the way Steve made him feel now—too heavy to move, too languid to care—Bucky knew even Winter wouldn't be able to make a move until it was too late. More importantly, Bucky knew such a fact didn't matter.

Bucky trusted Steve. He’d gladly put himself at a dagger’s end and give Steve the hilt. There would be no danger. 

Not even when Steve gently pulled the string at the collar of Bucky’s tunic and slipped the right sleeve over his shoulder. Bucky, air tickling the bare skin of his shoulder, glanced up at him. Shy. Reserved. No one had ever done anything like this before. Taken their time. Looked at him the way Steve did now. Like he was—

“You're very beautiful, Bucky,” Steve whispered and feathered a kiss to that shoulder. 

Bucky felt his heart stutter. “You think I'm beautiful?”

“I do. I've thought it since I first saw you.”

A smile, too big to contain, played on Bucky’s mouth. He nibbled on his lips before leaning in and pecking Steve's cheek. 

“I find it quite difficult to think straight around you,” he murmured. “Your face and body are both very distracting.”

Steve chuckled quietly and perked up slightly to look beyond Bucky. At Winter, who Bucky already knew was approaching from behind him. Captain, he assumed, probably wasn't far behind. Without saying anything, Winter leaned against Bucky’s legs and looked at him for a long moment. Something was about to happen. Something big. Life-changing, even. They could feel it. Together. 

She nuzzled him once and then took a small step forward. It was all she needed so that she could sit in front of Steve. Steve smiled at her. Then did the one thing no one was ever supposed to do. He placed his hand between her ears to pet the top of her head. He’d touched another’s dæmon.

It knocked the breath out of Bucky, truly, it did, but it wasn’t a bad sensation. This touch upon his dæmon couldn’t count as a violation. There was no taboo. Nothing wrong. It was all things right. Every emotion he’d ever felt connected at once so that he couldn’t tell when one ended and the next began. 

Rubies and emeralds and diamonds tumbled down all around Bucky. Bright and shiny. Brilliant light shining through them and casting illumination all around him. A treasure that belonged only to him and Bucky knew one thing with absolute certainty. One thing above all others. 

He had been changed, wholly and irrevocably. He would kill for Steve. He would die for Steve. Because he loved Steve. Absolutely. Completely. Unconditionally. Bucky’s love for Steve Rogers eclipsed anything he’d ever felt in his entire life. 

Steve looked up at him and for the first time Bucky noticed that, despite the smile, he had tears slipping down his cheeks. He released a rough, jagged breath, the sound of Bucky’s name slipping from Steve’s lips right at the end. Steve shivered. Glowed. Reached out with his free hand to gently brush the back of his fingers across Bucky’s cheek.

Only then did Bucky notice his own hand over Captain’s head, petting over soft lion’s fur. He could feel what Steve hadn’t come out and said. What Bucky hadn’t said aloud either. Maybe words weren’t needed. Not right now. Right now, this was enough. 

Hands still carding through each other’s dæmon’s fur, they leaned in at the same time. Met in the middle. 

And sealed their love without a word. 

They ended up laying in the grass together. Talking. Laughing. Kissing and touching and exploring each others bodies. Bucky rolled on top of Steve and for the first time Bucky knew it was okay to be silly and playful. He leaned in and pressed kisses all over Steve’s face until Steve flipped him over and tickled him until Bucky laughed through tears and begged him to stop. When he did, Steve gently cupped the side of his face and feathered a tease of a kiss to his lips—one Bucky lifted his head in an attempt to keep going.

“You’re a tease,” Bucky grumbled. “A horrible tease, I hope you know this.”

“Am I?” Steve giggled. He actually giggled. “Then, by all means, it does me no good to tease nobility, does it? Allow me to fix this crime.”

He leaned in and kissed him again. Harder. Passionate. Bucky felt an explosion go off throughout his entire body. 

“Is that better?”

Bucky grinned. More than he had ever in his life. He never knew he could feel like this. Flying. Bucky now knew what it was like to fly. 

“Much. I may even ask you to do it more.” 

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Steve said. “I do enjoy doing it. And I’ve been holding back for weeks.” 

A flush took Bucky hard as he buried his face in Steve’s chest. He probably should’ve told him that he felt the same, but all he could do was giggle. 

“Really? Have you?”

“Of course.” Steve pulled him in for another kiss. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. Thinking about you. It’s your heart, Bucky. It’s so… so big. Do you even know that?”

“My heart?” Bucky asked. “I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve known it since the moment I saw you. You don’t even know it. You care about people. I think you’re afraid of that, though.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to both Bucky’s cheeks. “You don’t have to be. Kindness isn’t a weakness.” He smiled. “My mother taught me that.” 

Bucky whispered, “She was very wise.” 

Tears filled Steve’s eyes. “I loved her so much. I miss her everyday.” 

“Steve,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no.” Steve held him back. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You had nothing to do with it.” 

No. That was wrong. Bucky did have something to do with it. Because he didn’t stop it from happening. 

Bucky said, “Will you… tell me about her?”

Her dæmon was a tiger named Justice. If Bucky thought about it hard enough, he wondered if he could remember his parents’ dæmons. She liked to sing and would sing Steve to sleep. When Steve was little, she put him on her feet to dance. They used to count fireflies in the summer and play in the fallen autumn leaves and run through winter snow and make flower crowns in the springtime. 

Every word Steve said about her, he held with the most tender care. He loved her with all his heart. Held her in the highest regard and with the most admiration anyone could have for someone. Somehow, Bucky’s heart found a way to love this man even more. 

“What about you, Bucky?” Steve asked. “What were your parents like?”

A sad smile lifted the side of Bucky’s mouth. He slowly shook his head and shrugged. 

“I don’t really know,” he whispered. “I can’t remember. I don’t even know what they looked like.”

A horrified look passed across Steve’s face. As though the thought of Bucky forgetting his family terrified him. 

“There aren’t… portraits? In your home. Nothing?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. My uncle, I mean, if there are portraits, my uncle’s had them taken down.” 

“But… why?”

 _To make me forget_ , Bucky thought. Realized. Hated. _I don’t know why_. 

He shrugged. 

“Bucky, would you… I know you don’t like to talk about, well, what you’re hiding from—”

“I’m not _hiding_ ,” Bucky grunted. “I’m just… I…”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve replied. So kind. So sweet. “Whatever it is you’re not telling me, you tell me when you’re ready. I trust you.” 

Stomach falling, Bucky had to glance away. Chewing on his lip, hard enough it hurt, he needed to keep words from tumbling out again. Because truths sat on his tongue. 

“Bucky?” 

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “You… you don’t have to answer it.”

Bucky grinned. He liked when Steve got nervous. Liked it even better when he made him nervous. 

“What is it, Steve?”

“I just… I’ve wondered… who is it that you’re intended to? I know you said you didn’t like him, so I just… I was curious.” 

“Oh.”

Bucky sat up then. Pulled his legs up and hugged them to his chest. The second he did, Steve followed. Hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You don’t have to—”

“Sir Rumlow,” Bucky answered Steve’s question. “He’s… it wasn’t my choice.” 

When Steve’s face fell, Bucky looked away. He understood. Everyone understood. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “That’s why…”

“No, wonder you wanted to get away.” Steve sighed and looked at him with pleading eyes. “You don’t have to leave, Bucky. You can stay. Here, with us. We’ll keep you safe.”

“Steve—”

“You can stay,” he continued. “With me.” 

Eyes squeezing closed, Bucky pulled away and swirled to his feet. He began to pace. Everything here was perfect. Steve. Winter and Captain. The Avengers. Bucky would given anything to keep it just the way Steve handed it to him. But one thing was missing. 

The truth. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. “Steve, there’s… there’s something I have to tell you…” 

Steve stood then to join him. Even took him by the shoulders to still his pacing. That didn’t stop Bucky from wringing out his hands or shuffling his feet. He needed to do this though. He needed to tell Steve the truth. 

“I’m not… who you think…” He shook his head. “I mean… Steve, I’m—”

“Steve!”

The breath fell out of Bucky’s lungs the second Sam burst from the trees. All the words disappeared as he and Steve whipped their gazes to where he came running at them. 

“What’s is it?” Steve asked, pulling his hands away from Bucky. “What’s wrong, Sam?” 

“The village,” Sam replied. Above them, Redwing circled around as both Winter and Captain bounded forward to get ready. “Something’s wrong.” 

Steve already headed towards Sam. They both turned towards the woods. Bucky followed right behind. 

“What?” Steve picked up the pace. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“There’re guards, the sheriff.” Sam shook his head. “Something about the Prince gone missing.”

Whatever they said next disappeared as Bucky slowed to a full stop. The world went with them. His throat grew tight. The air in his lungs fizzled. The night darkened. 

“Bucky?” A hand touched his wrist. Steve’s. “Are you coming?”

The world began to reshape when Bucky looked into those eyes. So warm and inviting and full of trust. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I just… I’ll be right behind you.” 

Steve nodded, still so warm and inviting and trusting, and went off with Sam, Captain and Redwing.

Left alone with Winter, they both just stood there. Frozen. The same thoughts running through their heads. 

“What is this?” Bucky asked. His voice an echo of what he knew it to be. “ _Now_ they’re looking for me?”

“I don’t like this, Bucky,” Winter said. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yes. But… but what?”

To that, neither of them had an answer. All Bucky knew was that he still needed to follow. 

He took a step. 

“James! Oh, James, thank goodness we found you!” 

Bucky nearly fell over. It… it couldn’t be. It just—

“Uncle?” There he was. Stepping out of the woods like just any other day. “What—what’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, Nephew,” he said. “It’s just good that I got to you before they could do you any more harm.” 

“Harm? Uncle, they’ve not harmed me, I—”

“Not harmed you?” Uncle Alex took hold of his wrist and tugged him close. Almost into a hug. “My dear boy, they _stole_ you right out from under my nose. But now, thanks to you, I’m finally going to be able to put a stop to this nuisance pack of thieves.”

 

Heart falling, Bucky’s stomach turned to ash. Everything washed away in a moment of abject horror. 

“What do you mean, Uncle? What have you done?” 

“What have _I_ done? My job, James. In finding you, you’ve lead me to the most notorious criminals in the kingdom. The guards will have them ambushed by the time they reach the village.” 

“What?” Bucky gasped. “No. No, Uncle, _please_! They didn’t kidnap me! They took me in after I _ran away_! I’m alive because of them!” 

“You think one good deed is enough to erase a lifetime of bad ones?” He laughed darkly. “Especially when they’re led by a man whose spent most of his life in committing treason.”

“N-no.” Bucky took a step back. “It… it was my _life_ , Uncle. He helped me. He saved me.”

In so many ways. Ways Bucky didn’t even know he needed to be saved. Steve opened him up to the world. Made it unfold before him in a glorious splendor of wonder and awe. There were so many endless possibilities to everyday. 

“ _Saved_ you?” Only Uncle Alex clearly saw it in another way. “Nephew, please. _Saved_? The only reason a man like Steven Rogers kept you was too _use_ you.”

“How could he use me, Uncle,” Bucky asked, “when he doesn’t know who I really am?”

“You’re _nobility_ , James. You stick our among them, of course. Whether that man knows your the prince or not, he kept you around because he found use for you.”

White hot anger flared through Bucky’s body. It engulfed him. Swift and hard.

“ _No_ ,” he growled. “Steve wouldn’t _do_ that to me.” Next to him, Winter shuddered, her fur on edge and claws grinding into the ground. “He… he…”

“Oh. _Oh_ , you sweet, innocent boy.” His uncle pinched between his eyes and let out a snicker. “You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

Somehow, the way his uncle said it, he made Bucky’s all-encompassing love for Steve seem wrong. Vulgar. Unnatural, even. Bucky’s stomach hurt. Up on his uncle’s shoulder, Hydra chuckled.

“I… I just…”

“James, you see? This whole thing just proves that you’re _too_ naive to _be_ here.” He held his hand out for him. “Come now. Let’s be done with this nonsense. You know I know what’s bes—”

“No!” 

Bucky jerked away before his uncle could touch him. His hand hung in the air. Confused. More than that. Much more.

“No?” He laughed. “Oh, I see. I guess you’re so mature now that you don’t _need_ me?”

“No, Uncle, I didn’t say—”

“ _Fine_ , then, if you’re so sure then go ahead and tell him who you are.”

“I will,” Bucky said. “You’ll see. He’ll still love me. He’s a good man.” 

Uncle Alex snapped his fingers as though Bucky hadn’t said a word at all. “That’s how fast he’ll leave you. Go on now, _go_. Go save the man you love with the truth. I won’t even say I-told-you-so.” 

Bucky looked over his shoulder to where Steve and Sam had disappeared through the woods. If he hurried, he could get to them on time. Before the guards got them all into a carriage to cart them away. He could still save them. 

Breaths backing up on him, Bucky shook his head and ignored the nagging sensation in the back of his mind. He trembled as he took off for the village. 

“Bucky!” Winter shouted as she ran beside him. “What’re we—”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” he exclaimed through panting and huffing. “But we’ve got to do _something_!” 

They couldn’t let the Avengers be hauled off to prison. If they were and the council passed judgement, they’d see every last one of them hanged. The thought was too unbearable. 

Bucky pushed his legs as hard as he could. Willed them, somehow, to get him there faster. He moved the way Wanda showed him. Under branches and over roots and around trees. Even in the dark, Bucky could run through the woods. 

He heard the commotion before he saw it. It pushed him to run harder. Winter got there first. He felt it before he saw it. 

“No,” he whimpered. “Oh, no…”

Guards. Everywhere. Doing everything they could to take the Avengers down. Humans and daemons fighting alike. Blood fell. Soaked into the hot, summer’s ground like drops of red rain. They wouldn’t be taken. Not the Avengers. Bucky could see that now. They’d die before they’d let themselves be taken. 

“Stop!”

The command echoed across the village square. It even washed over Bucky as he ran towards them all. He’d stop this. He would. Even when that meant literally throwing himself into the middle of the fray. 

Everything happened in slow motion after that. 

Bucky raced towards the guards trying to cuff Steve. Got in between. Shoved back. Winter growled and bit whoever she had to to protect him. Bucky made a fist the way Sam taught him. He swung through the punches like Natasha showed him. He moved his body just like Rhodey told him. He tried to think like Tony. And came up with only one way to stop all this madness.

The guards in front of him went to swing. Until they saw what Bucky pulled out from under his shirt. 

“By order of the Prince!” Bucky called, “you will stop this!” 

Slow. Steady. It did though. Same as earlier today, the guards, one by one, saw what he held out to them. The royal icon. Gleaming in the moonlight. 

“The Prince?” 

That voice. The only one that could make time start running properly again. Bucky turned. And would do anything to change what he’d just done. 

Steve’d been forced to his knees. Customary. Of course he’d be made to kneel before his prince. It wasn’t that, though. Or, well, not just that. The way Steve looked at him. That look pierced right through Bucky’s hurt. Steve’s eyes changed. That warmth and trust had disappeared. Replaced now, with anger and confusion.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice barely came out. He couldn’t make it any louder. Any stronger. Not with the look Steve gave him. “It’s… it’s still me, Steve.” 

He reached for him, like he had all night long. Only this time, when Bucky moved to place a simple touch on Steve, Steve jerked away from it as though the thought of being touched by him was revoluting. 

Bucky felt the rush of a thousand heartaches. He glanced around. The stillness hurt. Almost as much as Steve’s eyes. The other Avengers there, they too, stared at him with that same disgust.

“Steve,” Bucky whimpered, his voice splintering off into a million pieces. “I’m sorry… I didn’t…”

“Very nice, Your Highness.” A chill swept up Bucky’s spine as Brock Rumlow stepped forward. He pulled a net behind him. With Captain trapped within. “You know, we never would have found their little nest without you.” 

“You son of a bitch.” 

Steve’s words—that angry, infuriated tone—slit through Bucky worse than that hatred in his eyes. 

“What?” Bucky whipped his gaze from Rumlow to Steve. “No! No, Steve, I… I didn’t…” 

“You didn’t _what_ , Your _Highness_?” Steve growled, visibly hurt by Captain’s condition. “Just decided to _visit_ the lives you’ve ruined?”

Tears burned behind Bucky’s eyes. They danced right along his eyelashes as he tried desperately to keep them back. 

“Steve,” he whimpered. “I love you.”

Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the hurt that would come next. He’d take Steve’s yelling. His cursing. That angry, infuriated glare. Anything but Steve turning away from him before Rumlow instructed the guards to start hauling them away. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Time moved like a wheel. It’d continued to turn and turn even when it felt as though it had stopped. It began that summer’s night all those weeks ago when an accident, or fate brought Bucky to Steve. When he’d been led to do something he’d never done before. It all took Bucky to this moment. When time still moved forward no matter how hard he willed it to turn back. 

The throne room trembled. Thunder quaked. Rain spattered down on a whole new world. 

“I’ve spoken with the council. With the exception of one in your favor, they all seem to think you’re not nearly ready enough to be king.”

Bucky heard his uncle speaking, he even knew Hydra sniggered from her spot curled up on his lap, but the words washed over him like the rain outside. The words were there but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Winter stood next to him. On edge. Ready to do whatever she needed.

“They all agree that you need more guidance,” his uncle said. “Someone that might take you under their wing, so to speak. I think we should move your marriage to Sir Rumlow—”

“Where are the portraits of my family?”

The question surprised him. Uncle Alex blinked. Whatever he’d been in the middle of saying fell away to silence.

“The what?”

“The portraits of my family,” Bucky repeated. “Where are they?”

“They were taken down at the fire,” he said, and before Bucky could ask why, “Dr. Zola believed it be better for your healing if you weren’t reminded of your loss all the time.” 

“Put them back up.” 

Bucky didn’t miss the inflection in his voice. The command. The authority he didn’t even really have over his uncle even as the prince. Uncle Alex must’ve heard it too. His shoulders squared. Bucky could see the locking of his jaw. 

“Your family _portraits_ ,” his uncle said, “are not what’s important.”

“I don’t remember what my parents look like.”

“The council doesn’t see you fit for the throne, James, and frankly, given your recent behavior I can’t say that I blame them.” 

His fingers curled into fists. Maybe Bucky should’ve taken the warning seriously. He couldn’t, though. Something Natasha had taught him. The one question he’d asked and his uncle didn’t take him seriously. He was diverting his attention to something else. The pain of letting him down. Not being able to rule. Of not being good enough. His uncle turned his question into pain. 

“That’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Oh, it’s not what he wants to talk about.” Once again, Hydra sniggered. “Fine then. What would _you_ like to speak about?”

“You lied to me,” Bucky said. “You said my mother and father never went to the villages.”

“And?”

“And they _did_ ,” Bucky growled. “Steve _told_ me they did.” 

“Ah, yes, Steven Rogers, the criminal.” He faked a laugh. “I’m sure your parents would be so proud.” 

“He’s only a criminal because you made him one.” 

“He’s a _criminal_ because his _mother_ _killed_ your parents.” His uncle jabbed a finger at him as though needing to stress his point. “I kept you from the villages because there are people out there who _hate_ you and would hurt you.”

“They hate me because of you!” Bucky exclaimed. “You've lied to me and deceived me for my _whole_ life and I _fell_ for it.” 

His hands began to shake. All his life, he’d trusted the man in front of him. Bucky naively followed him while Alexander Pierce had blindfolded him. Everything fell to pieces. Shattered pieces of his own broken heart crunched beneath his feet. 

Eyes narrowed, Uncle Alex sucked in a rough breath through flared nostrils. 

“I kept you _safe_ , James, whether you want to see it that way or _not_.”

“By taxing the people to death in _my_ name?!” Bucky yelled. “By making laws that just helped you instead of protecting the kingdom? No, you weren’t keeping me safe. You did everything for _you_.”

The air went still between them. The rain pounded harder. Lightning flashed. His uncle slowly rose out of the throne and came closer. Winter’s fur stood. 

“Listen to me, Nephew,” he said very softly. “I have kept things in order here for fifteen years and you’re _not_ about to uproot everything I’ve done just because you went galavanting through the woods and befriended a bunch of street rats.” Uncle Alex crept up so close Bucky could feel the anger coming from him. “You listen to me and you listen to me now. You will marry Brock Rumlow at the end of summer. You will listen to the council. And you will _never_ disobey me again.” 

Bucky’s heart skipped a nervous beat. He knew what the appropriate response was. It’d been the same response for Bucky’s whole life.

“No,” he said instead. “No, I won’t be doing any of that, Uncle. I’m not a child anymore. You can’t make me.”

Pain came at him so quickly Bucky barely even understood what happened. Knuckles had cracked him at the side of his face. The slap echoed off the walls and caught Bucky so off guard it almost knocked him off his feet. Bucky grabbed at the spot his uncle backhanded. At the same time, Winter leapt forward, lunging in to attack. Only she couldn’t. Not because of Hydra. Because Alex grabbed her by the snout and twisted.

Bucky dropped to his knees the second his uncle touched Winter. It was worse than the hit he’d just taken. This wasn’t anything like when Steve touched her. Having anyone else touch Winter felt wrong. Violating. Like someone had reached into his stomach and yanked him inside out. 

There were lines that no one crossed. Laws that people followed out of nature. Someone touching another’s dæmon was just taboo. Bucky wanted to be sick. To tear his skin off. Anything to make it stop.

“Stop,” Bucky whispered. “Please. Let her go. Let us go, please, Uncle.”

“You don’t think I can make you?” He leaned down and squeezed Winter harder. She yelped. Bucky cried out. “You are sorely mistaken, Nephew.”

“Okay.” Bucky held onto his body as though it’d fall apart if he didn’t. Maybe it would. “Okay, Uncle. I’ll do whatever you say. Just…”

He released Winter then and Bucky scrambled to get his arms around her. She borrowed her face into his chest.

“Do not forget the mercy I’ve shown you, James. Bad things happen to those who do.” 

He went to leave them. Stood straight and tall while Hydra scurried over both Bucky and Winter with a growl of her own. 

“Uncle,” Bucky said. “I’ll do everything you ask. You just have to promise me one thing.”

“And what is that, Nephew?” he asked as he continued toward the doors.

“Don’t hurt him.”

His uncle chuckled and slowed just enough to look over his shoulder. A sneer curled up the corner of his mouth and for the first time, Bucky truly saw the cruelty that would haunt him forever. Cruelty that had always been there.

“You have my word. I won’t touch a hair on Steve Rogers’ head.” 

The doors slammed behind him and the tears Bucky’d been holding back fell freely as he held Winter in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Winter, I’ll never let him touch you again. I swear.” 

“Bucky.” She lifted her head. “Are _you_ okay? I… I felt like… are you okay, Bucky?”

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I just… I have to go see Sir Nicholas.”

“Nick?” Winter questioned. “Now? Why?”

Though his head still spun and the ground felt unsteady beneath his feet, Bucky still stood and headed for the doors. There were things he needed to get done. This was his kingdom. He’d spent too many years living in its shadows becoming a monster. 

“I need to know how many of the Avengers they got,” he told Winter. “And how many of his soldiers might actually be loyal to the crown.”

***

Bucky’s stomach hurt. He’d always known where the Prison Tower was, but he’d never gone to it. There’d never been any reason to. As far as he knew, it stood empty all these years. He’d fallen for his uncle’s lies and tricks. Too many people had paid for the blindfold that Bucky only now ripped off so that he could see clearly. 

The tower loomed in the nighttime. A dark shadowed that hovered over the world with hidden misery. Bucky approached it from the rear. Only one guard was stationed there. 

“Who goes there?” he called out when seeing Bucky approach. 

“Let me in,” Bucky ordered. “Now.”

“I… I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the guard said. The vulture next to him hobbled closer. “We’re not to let anyone inside.”

“I’m your _prince_ ,” Bucky replied. “Now open the door and let me in.”

“I would, Your Highness.” Bucky believed him. “But my orders come from Sir Rumlow. You’ll have to take it up with him.”

Bucky nodded, balled up a fist…

“Okay then.” 

And swung. 

The guard went down and stayed down. Winter took care of the dæmon. Made sure she was out as well. 

The keys, as Bucky suspected, were on the man’s belt loop. First getting them, he then dragged the guard into the shadows before opening the door and letting himself into the prison. 

It was worse than anything he could have imagined. Cells crammed with people. Men, women, and children all shoved together. Some of them were locked in a ball and chain. Some were even chained to the wall or floor. Their dæmons were kept separate from them. A cell across the hall. Just enough distance that it might cause physical discomfort for the both of them.

The smell made Bucky want to be ill. Sweat and waste and rotting meat. Only hay for them to sleep on. He needed to fix this. So many things he needed to fix. It all started with this trip. He just needed to stay brave enough to complete it. 

“The lower level,” Winter reminded him when Bucky hesitated at the winding stone staircase. “That’s where Nick said he’d be.” 

“I know.” Bucky nodded and took a deep breath. He grabbed a torch from out of its holder on the wall. “Let’s go.”

It took several minutes to get down there. All the way to the bowels of the prison. A place where the sun wouldn’t shine. Where the stars would never reach. Where the air turned thick and heavy. 

The cells down there were different. They weren’t opened barred like the ones above ground. These doors were wooden. With only a small barred window in front. Bucky supposed they were served food through them. If at all. 

_Steve’ll be in the one at the end,_ Nick had told him. _You’re sure you can do this_?

Yes. Yes, Bucky hadn’t been surer of anything in his entire life and he still believed that as he walked toward that cell. One pace at a time. Until he finally reached it. Both the longest and quickest journey of his life. 

Bucky’s hand shook as he stood in front of it. He didn’t know what waited for him on the other side of that door. All he could do was hope. He stepped up and peered inside. His heart fell. 

Steve had been beaten, that much was clear. He wore the injuries all over his body. Bucky could tell since he had no shirt on and there was none in the cell so far as he could see. His pants were shredded up to the knees. He sat on the floor. Not that there was a choice. Nothing else was in the cell with him. Not a bed. Not a pile of dirty blankets. Not hay. Nothing. 

“St-Steve?”

If Bucky hadn’t heard it himself, he wouldn’t’ve known that he called out to him. His voice splintered. Bucky already knew that Steve hated him now. He could never love him again. But as much as that hurt Bucky didn’t need it to do the right thing. 

A chain rattled from somewhere when Steve lifted his head—Bucky couldn’t see what it was attached to—and immediately looked away again.

“Oh look,” Steve muttered. “It’s the _Prince_ here to visit his favorite prisoner. I guess I should count myself lucky, huh?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispered. “I deserve that. But, what would you have done to me if you found out who I was? You hate me.”

“Hate you?” Steve barked a laugh. “Hate doesn’t begin to _cover_ it. You… you took _everything_ from me. My home. My… _mother_. The Avengers. Have you come here to gloat? To prove that you can do whatever you want? Go on! Go ahead! You earned it, didn’t you? Weeding out the only ones that kept you from destroying everyone.” He shook his head. “And the worst part is, even if I knew who you were…” Steve lets out a shaky laugh. “I’d’ve still shown you mercy and helped you and kept your lies for you. Because I was taught mercy by a good woman.” 

Bucky had to suck his lip in to keep it from trembling. Those words, words which Steve believed with all his good heart, struck him like a thousand arrows. 

“Are you finished?”

“No,” Steve mumbled. “I just don’t care to waste any of my breath on you.” 

A single tear escaped from Bucky’s eyes. He let it fall. Wore it like his very own badge of honesty. 

“I wasn’t the one who hurt you, Steve. You don’t have to believe me. I know you don’t, but… if you could just hear me out for a moment, just…”

“Say what you have to say, Your Highness.” Steve shifted. Bucky heard the chains again. “Then leave so I can just rot here in peace.” 

With an ache in his heart, Bucky did just that. He told Steve everything. From start to finish. Every sordid detail from about all of this that he could remember. When he was done, Steve said nothing. For a moment, Bucky wondered if that really was it. Until Steve’s eyes swept back up to meet his. 

“You really expect me to just—”

Eyes going wide, Steve snapped his mouth closed. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve just noticed who was talking to him. Fury washed over his face. Pure, wild anger. For the first time ever, Bucky felt fear in the presence of Steve Rogers. Even with a locked cell door between them. 

Steve quickly got to his feet and moved briskly for the door, only stopping because the chains around his neck yanked him back and kept him from coming any closer. He hissed in pain and grabbed the back of his neck. 

“What happened to you?” he asked. “Who hurt you?”

The question made no sense. Bucky had no idea what he meant. 

“What? What do you mean?”

Reaching out for him like it caused a physical pain not to try, Steve strained himself in an attempt to get closer to the door. It was useless of course. But Steve Rogers was an unstoppable force who would go up against an immovable object if he thought he needed to. 

“Who _hit_ you, Bucky?”

“O-oh…” Bucky breathed, ghosting his fingers across the bruise by his eye. “It’s nothing. It—”

“Someone put their _hands_ on you, Bucky. Who was it? Did Rumlow hit you? I swear to the gods I will kill him if he put his hands on you.” 

“No, Steve, it wasn’t…” Bucky swallowed the rock in his throat. “It was my uncle. He hit me. When I told him I wouldn’t listen to him anymore.”

The chains rattled again, pulling taut when Steve tried to get closer still. Bucky’s heart began to thud against his ribs. Something strange was happening. All this anger… Steve’s fury… it was for… _him_. Because someone had hit him. Bucky had no idea what that meant, but he could fly away on that knowledge alone. 

“I can’t hold you,” Steve said. “I can’t protect you when I’m in here and you’re out there. That son of a bitch… you’re his… and he… he…” 

“Steve.” Bucky smiled. Maybe he shouldn't have, but he couldn’t help it. “I love you. And I’m going to get you out of here. I just need to ask you to trust me one more time. And then you never have to again.”

Tears. Bucky didn’t know if they were for him or for what he’d done or just for everything, but Steve did nothing to wipe them away. He nodded and said nothing more. Not until Bucky turned to leave. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered. 

***

“Well, Nephew, how do you feel?”

Bucky glanced at Alex through the mirror. “Should I be feeling anything particular, Uncle?”

“I’m told people often do,” he replied, “on their wedding days.”

The sun shined bright in the sky. The palace had been decorated with banners of white. Nobility from all over the kingdom had traveled for the joyous occasion. Bucky felt sick. 

“You forget,” Bucky said as he allowed a servant to lace up his tunic. “I’m doing this against my will. I feel nothing.” 

“You know, I really thought we’d be past our little quarrel by now, James.” His uncle stepped into the room and shooed all the servants out. He poured himself a glass of wine. “You’re acting like a child.” 

Scoffing, Bucky turned his gaze out the window. Down below, the courtyard was filling with people. Guests and workers and guards. So many guards. Bucky’d almost gotten used to how many more there were now. Lest he ever thought of running again. 

“When I’m king,” Bucky murmured. “Do you still plan on using me as a puppet?” 

“Ah, my boy.” Alex placed a hand on his shoulder. “A good puppetmaster never lets anyone see their strings. Behave yourself. You’ll have a nice cushy life. And that boy will live to see another day.” 

Eyes closing, Bucky folded his lips in and nodded. “Yes, Uncle.” 

“Good. Now!” He laughed, and for a second Bucky thought it might’ve actually been with real humor. “Let us get you married! Smile, James, it’s a wedding!” 

That wasn’t a request and Bucky knew it. He lifted his mouth into the best fake smile he could give as his uncle finished the drink. Bucky’s shoulders sagged the second he left. 

“All things considered,” Winter said from the bed. “You look quite handsome.” 

Bucky had to chuckle at that. “Thank you, Winter. You’re still okay with this?”

“Of course, I am.” She sat up and trotted over to him. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of this.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Whatever happens? I love you, Winter.” 

“I love you, too, Bucky.” 

It was just as Bucky suspected. People he knew there to make a good impression talking as though they really cared. Ostentatious. Ice sculptures and boring music and idle chit-chat. 

Bucky forced himself through all of it. Polite smiles. Waiting to be bowed to. Answering questions. All while having to stand with his intended. Brock, in all his sleaze and abhorrent ways, turned on his charm to dazzle everyone. He’d even leaned in and pressed a few soft kisses to Bucky’s cheeks. 

If Bucky didn’t already know any better, he might’ve blushed. As it was, every second near the man was just revolting.

“Loosen up,” Brock said as they waited for the ceremony to begin. “You can at least _pretend_ to be happy.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Oh, I don’t. Not about you.” He fixed the front of his tunic to make sure it wasn’t riding up. “But they think I do. So for their sake, try to pretend.” 

They were called forward then. Meant to stand before those gathered around them to stand witness of this joyous occasion, as his uncle called it. The Friar said words about unity and honor and duty. He talked about tradition and the kingdom. He spoke of the dearly departed King and Queen and Princess. And then asked for Bucky’s vow. 

“Do you take this man in Holy Matrimony, in good time and bad, through sickness and in health, until death parts you?” 

A chilled crawled up Bucky’s spine. He glanced down at Winter. She nodded. He looked out at his uncle who gave him a dark, pointed look. Bucky quickly looked back at Brock who waited with a smug grin upon his face for Bucky’s answer. 

“I…” Bucky squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t.” 

“What?” Brock asked. “What was that?”

“I said,” Bucky repeated louder, “I _don’t_.” He turned and faced Alex. Shook his head. “I’m not doing this. Not anymore.”

“James,” Alex murmured. “Think this through.”

“Oh, I have. Many times.” Bucky shook his head. “You’re a liar. You’re a cheater. You hurt people. You hurt _my_ people. And I won’t let you do that anymore.”

Without a word, Alex got to his feet, expression unreadable, and casually strolled over to them. 

“Why do you make me hurt you, James?” he asked. “Is that what you want?” His hand raised. “Because I can make you hurt even more.” 

Out at the other end of the courtyard, Bucky saw what his uncle had signaled for. Two guards dragged Steve forward, his hands bound by rope in front of him. Behind them, four more guards dragged Captain in with a net. 

“ _No_.” Bucky whipped his gaze back to Alex. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him.” 

“If you listened, James. Now, what’s it going to be? His life? Or yours?”

Bucky looked between Brock and Steve before turning his eyes back to his uncle. 

“I hate you,” Bucky whispered. “I want you to know that. But I also want you to know, that you can’t fool me anymore. And I have friends that you don’t know about.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve flung his arms up in the air and an arrow cut through his bindings. The second he was free, he pulled the sword from one of the guards’ sheath and cut Captain loose. 

“Guards!” Alex yelled. “Seize him! And whoever fired that—”

But Clint already showed himself. Stood high on the far wall and fired another arrow while Rhodey dropped down with his own weapon at the ready. His sights were already set on Brock Rumlow.

“Is this really the best you can do?” Alex laughed. “Three measly men? Honestly, Nephew, I thought you’d be brighter than this.”

“Oh, I am, Uncle,” Bucky answered. “Have you counted your councilmembers today? I have.” 

Alex’s face fell. He snapped his sights to where the council hid behind a wall of guards. All but one. 

“Soldiers!” Nick called from the gates. “To the Prince!”

Someone screamed. It happened suddenly. Hundreds of soldiers poured into the courtyard dressed in banners of red and silver starbursts. Loyal to _Bucky_. Including the Avengers. All of them assembled again. They swarmed. Fought back any guard who tried to resist.

“What have you _done_?” Alex growled. 

“What I had to,” Bucky said. “I learned from the best. And I don’t mean you.” 

“ _You_.” Alex’s eyes burned. “You ungrateful little _swine_!” 

The dagger came out of nowhere. Bucky’d never even seen his uncle handle a weapon before. Sun caught on the blade as it came towards him. Winter went to dive in front of him. Bucky moved the way he’d been shown and slammed a fist right into his uncle’s side. And when he looked up, he found himself surrounded by the Avengers. Steve stood right in front of him, shielding him from his uncle and his dagger. 

“You won’t ever touch him again,” Steve growled. “He’s one of _us_. And we protect our family.” 

Two people were at Bucky’s sides. It took him a second to realize who. Sam and Natasha. Wanda stepped closer to see if he’d been cut. Behind him, Tony said he’d taught him better than that. Rhodey scoffed. Clint smiled and gave him a thumbs up. They were here. All of them. 

“ _You_ , however,” Nick said to Alex as he came over, “are guilty of treason against the crown. A crime punishable by death.” 

“No,” Bucky said. “I will show him mercy. And not because of anything he’s ever done for me.” He placed a hand on Steve’s back. “But because I was taught mercy by a good man. That being said, you can show him the same hospitality he showed the good people of my kingdom. And after today, I’ll never think of him again.” 

“You heard your prince.” Nick lifted his hand and several guards stepped forward to haul Alexander Pierce to his feet. “Take him away.” 

As they dragged him again, ignoring the blasphemous stream of words that spilled from his mouth, Bucky looked to one more person. 

“It looks like I don’t need your army after all.” He flashed a gloating smile at Brock. “I have my own. And _you_ shall be stripped of your title and along with the rest of that good for nothing council.”

Brock spit at the ground. “It’s too bad you didn’t burn up in that fire along with the rest of you no good—”

Bucky finally found one good way to shut Brock Rumlow up. Steve’s fist. Right in the side of his mouth. 

“What?” Steve asked when he turned to see all their staring faces. “It slipped.” 

Sam chuckled. “Shut him the hell up.” 

Smiling, Steve took a step near Bucky. Bucky’s spine stiffened. Though he’d gone back to the prison many times during the past few weeks, this was the first time they’d been able to be so close. Winter and Captain were silent. They just nuzzled against one another.

“I believe I may have crashed your wedding,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Crash away,” Bucky said. “I liked it. And there can still be a wedding. If you… wouldn’t mind being married to the inept Prince of Brooklyn.” 

Steve tilted his head. “Did you just ask me to marry you, Your Highness?”

“I…” Bucky replayed the words in his head. “I believe I did. Are you going to make your prince wait for an answer?” 

He nodded. 

“Yes. I think I will.” 

Steve took in a deep breath and then lunged in to kiss him. Improper and disrespectful and Bucky didn’t care about the gasps of horror from the crowds of nobility still around them. Steve lifted him into his arms and spun around once. 

Bucky laughed. Things were going to change now. He could make that happen. He’d form a new council out of the Avengers if they’d accept. They’d help him rebuild his kingdom to its former glory. And Steve would rule by his side. Happy and in love. With Winter and Captain. For all the days of their lives.

They’d visit the villages together. Open the castle gates. There’d be life and happiness again. It was already glowing around them.

Bucky had no idea how this really happened, but it had. Somehow, it had. And as Steve kissed him, he knew it had nothing to do with him being Prince James Buchanan Barnes, and everything to do with Steve just loving Bucky as much as Bucky loved him. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! look me up on tumblr for more marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)!


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